By Thanksgiving
by BravoExpressions
Summary: Sequel to 'Independence Day.' With a five-year-relationship in-tact and a baby on the way, Mary and Marshall may be poised for marriage in the near future. But, something is holding Mary back – will Marshall be able to convince her they should be official? T for language, but minimal.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings, IPS fans! I am back in action – hopefully this prompts some measure of delight, but you never know. I bring you the promised (or nearly-promised) sequel to 'Independence Day' which would be 'By Thanksgiving.' (Enjoying that holiday theme I have going yet?) I have flown forward in time a little further than some of you might've anticipated; Norah is six in this tale (what can I say, I like writing kids.) That, and this is definitely more Mary/Marshall centered, contrary to the original which was focusing on Brandi. **

**I sincerely hope you find this second story to your liking; the only precursor I can give it is that Mary is supposed to have changed – in a variety of ways. Hopefully, she does not seem out-of-character, but merely mellowed or less acidic in select situations. I've never really written a tale where she was supposed to have changed quite a bit (or at least changed in a fairly short amount of time.)**

**Other than that, I hope the description on the main page speaks for itself and that you enjoy this short, but introductory chapter!**

XXX

"Mom, I can't go over until I have my glove!"

Why was Mary the one with her head buried in the backseat looking for it again? While the gnats buzzed around her ears? Squashing her already paunchy stomach? Norah was the one who knew where it was.

"Where did you put it?" Mary snapped, just imagining the hopping up and down in the grass her daughter was doing behind her, impatience at its finest. "I saw you get in the car with it; why isn't it here?"

She rifled through a thousand other things, hair falling in her eyes, wishing every time she had to sweep it out of her face that she'd tied it in a ponytail.

"I think it's under the seat!" Norah piped up. "Behind your side!"

The whole floor of that end of the van was littered with nothing that belonged to _her_ child – a tiara, plastic teacups, dolls with perfectly combed heads of hair. The sight of all that pink made Mary faintly ill, which wasn't hard these days, and she vented her frustrations on the mess of magenta.

"Robyn…" she sighed, stretching upward and regretting it when she felt the crick in her back. "You needed _all_ this to come to a baseball game?"

Finally turning around, Mary saw both girls and Brandi, whose eyes were buried behind a ball cap while she fiddled with the squirmy little boy on her hip.

Despite being night and day, Norah and Robyn could hardly look more alike if they tried, both with scraggly, exceedingly long honey-blonde hair. Norah refused to have hers cut because it was tiresome and she had more interesting things to do, or so she claimed. It was halfway down her waist and Robyn's, still lengthier, was tied in doglike pigtails on either side of her head.

Norah in her baseball jersey and denim shorts, hat pulled low over her features. Robyn in some flippy purple dress with ruffles. Nearly identical and nothing the same.

"Tell me that," Mary repeated, for Robyn was hedging, just getting ready to make a spectacle. "You need _teacups_ at a _baseball game_?"

"What if the _queen_ shows up?" Robyn put on her best 'diva' face and stuck a hand to her hip. "How am I supposed to _entertain_ her if we don't have anything to drink?"

This kid. Mary would never get used to her.

"The queen," her aunt stated disbelievingly, about to pounce all over that. "On the diamond."

"Mare, she can borrow a glove," Brandi piped up, not wanting a battle of wills to come into play. "Max, don't…" she cut herself off distractedly when her son with the mop of sandy hair tried to bat her cap off.

"Mom-my!" Norah whined upon hearing Brandi's suggestion, stretching out the salutation. "They get mad if you ask to borrow. _Please_ – I need to find mine!"

"Bug, I don't know where it is!" Mary protested. "It's _your_ job to get it in the car; we talked about that, remember?" she didn't want to have this discussion again. "You're on the team, your responsibility."

Norah looked near tears, even in the shadow of the bill on her baseball cap. Fortunately, Robyn was still caught up in her speech from before and noticed her cousin's plight at once. She was very quick when anything involving emotions came into play.

"Wait!" the younger held up a theatrical finger, like she was about to shout 'eureka.' "I do believe I saw it under the kitchen cupboard!"

"My God…" Mary muttered under her breath while Robyn shoved her aside to stick her own head in the car, just trying to wrap her mind around such a phrase coming out of a five-year-old's mouth.

Robyn was nothing if not dramatic, wiggling her little butt out of the backseat while she searched. It made the ruffles on her dress dance back and forth. As if Mary wasn't feeling conspicuous enough in the oversized jersey used to hide her belly, and she hadn't had a good start to the day. Six months and morning sickness still persisted; she didn't need the pack of Shannon women, add Max, to the mix.

"Ah-_ha_!" with a flourish, Robyn flung the prized glove out for the group to see. "The saucer from my tea party! I didn't get all the milk out, but it should still work…"

Norah shrieked, "Thanks Robyn!"

Mary wondered, very shrewdly at that, how long her niece had known it was there, just waiting for the right moment to put on her usual play. But Norah, while not from the same mold, usually indulged her little cousin and topped this find off by throwing her arms around her fellow's neck in gratitude.

"It was nothing, it was nothing…" Robyn declared pompously.

Brandi was cracking up, still trying to ward off two-year-old Max with her fingers; he was bound and determined to get her hat off. But Mary had to remind herself everyday to tolerate Robyn and all her antics; she'd never met such a drama queen in her life, not even the little girl's mother. She was more feminine than all of them put together.

"Mom, I gotta go!" Norah informed them, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I don't want to miss batting practice!"

"Better run," Mary told her. "Brandi and I are gonna find a seat; dad will be here soon."

"Is Marshall coming?" her daughter wanted to know of the man that lived in their house.

"I don't think so…" Mary shook her head. "He got called into work."

This happened more often than usual now that Mary had suspended her job 'until further notice' in favor of Norah and the ambiguous one on the way. It also gave Marshall the opportunity to be boss again, something he'd been forced to pull rank on five years prior with he and Mary's hook-up.

Norah pouted very briefly, but she was used to work, "Okay," with a sigh. "You'll tell him how I do?"

"I always do," Mary reminded her. "He likes the run-down."

"_I_ can tell him," Robyn butted in, placing her fingers over her heart. "You should _really_ try to steal the home base or something, and then I can make it sound like a news report."

"Okay honey…" Brandi finally attempted to shut her up, but she was usually too endeared to her child to bother. "Norah needs to get moving."

With this, Mary's daughter raised her hand in farewell to head off for the field, and although her mother knew she was already late, she couldn't let her go just yet. Her newly-six-year-old did well with all the women, but it was Marshall and Mark who usually made her baseball games worth it, and neither of them were here. It was only fair for her tough-bad-ass-mother to fill their shoes momentarily.

"Shannon!" Mary called out just as Norah's red All Star sneakers turned to begin their race.

But, she should've known what was coming next because it was the oldest running gag between the cousins that existed.

"_I'm_ Shannon!" Norah and Robyn shouted at the same time. And then, the old-school expression Marshall had taught them, "Jinx!" their fingers pointed at one another.

"I said it first!" Robyn declared.

"Fine…" Norah sighed, not really caring this time and jogging to her mother.

Looking down into her big dark eyes, the perfect swirling mass of brown and green, Mary tipped the bill of the hat upwards. Her insanely-long locks were tangled and her cheeks were already pink from the August warmth. But, she looked the part just as the men in her life would hope.

"Be careful, love…" Mary cautioned. "You kick butt though, got it?"

"I've done it before," Norah shrugged, a mild attempt at modesty. "Are you gonna get a funnel cake again?" she was always interested in the snacks.

Mary took her turn at shrugging, "Junior Mann didn't think much of the funnel cakes last time," she drummed three fingers across her belly, but that was all.

Norah nodded, understanding and not wanting her mother to experience all the hurling which she hadn't been able to get rid of lately. A second pregnancy at forty-five didn't do wonders for her insides, but she was getting used to it at this point.

"Now go…" Mary nodded toward the field. "I kept you too long already."

With a smile, Norah jetted off, red shoes blurring, laces slapping through the tall green summer grass. Brandi flashed her sister a grin with her exit, finally having been able to calm the bouncy, fidgeting Max. Robyn danced ahead of them, twirling the skirt of her dress in the breeze. Mary often wondered how that kid didn't get dizzy with all the spinning she did. But, as she was often reminded; it was part of her 'persona.'

"I was surprised to hear you be sensible about the funnel cake," Brandi remarked, one eye on Robyn, the other adjusting Max as they walked. "You devoured the one you had last time, and Marshall said you spent the whole night barfing it up."

"Do you really need to remind me?" Mary griped. "Go get your daughter…" she jerked her head at Robyn, who was about to join a pack of strangers. "Give me the moppet…" she indicated Max, whom she had nicknamed for his shaggy hair.

Brandi chuckled, "You just don't want me to see you moon over him," but she handed her son over anyway, where Mary was just barely able to hitch him onto her hip in what little room there was left.

Convinced she was right; Brandi pranced ahead of her sister to catch up with Robyn, who was indeed trying to put on some act for other baseball-goers heading toward the diamond. Max, almost two and a product of the rekindling of Brandi's and Peter's romance, pointed as his mother disappeared, but said nothing. He rarely did. Mary often thought Norah and, especially Robyn, did not give him a chance.

"Sucks to have to keep your mouth shut," Mary informed him, raking her fingers through the sand-shaded waves, admiring the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. "Hate to say it, man, but you might have to get used to it."

Max turned at the sound of her voice, staring up at her with his blue eyes, the exact sapphire shade of Brandi's. Robyn's were darker, like Peter's, which was another reason she resembled Norah so closely. Mary took her nephew's hand, marveling in the smallness of it in her own, trying to recall what that feeling was like. Come three months, she and Marshall were going to be at it again.

"Berry…" he articulated, which was his muddled version of her name, as he had too much trouble with the 'M' sound. "Berry…mama…" he gestured at Brandi again.

"She's right there," Mary assured him. "You saying I'm not good enough?"

Talking to a two-year-old. Her life had come down to this.

XXX

**A/N: I tried to work in ages and relationships there as casually and concisely as possible, but just in case any of it was missed:**

**Brandi and Peter have (finally) married. They have Robyn, who is now five (and you should obviously remember from the first story!) and Max, nearly two. Norah is six; Mary and Marshall are expecting their own in three months time; etc, etc. Hope you guys enjoyed! You know how much I love your reviews; you all are as loyal as they come!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank-you so much for so many reviews so quickly! You all warm my heart. For anyone that was curious in case there's confusion, I just thought I'd put this out there: Mary and Marshall are not married in this story. That's going to be the main plot; whether or not they'll get married. :)**

XXX

Mark didn't show up to the game until well into the second inning, by which time both Robyn and Max were getting squirrely. Brandi couldn't hold both of them, and Max understandably won out being smaller, but Mary certainly didn't have room on her lap for Robyn. As a result, she became louder and more thespian to fuel her boredom, something that was tiring Mary as she leaned on the chain link on the inside of the bleachers. It was hot and the metal was cool against her flesh.

"And there's Norah Shannon standing on second base…" Robyn was putting on her best announcer voice, holding an imaginary microphone to her mouth, just as Mary saw Mark jogging in from the parking lot. "She's been standing there a _long_ time, and she looks up a lot so there just _might_ be rain on the way…"

Doubtful, Mary thought among her niece's babble, feeling the heat of the sun on her neck. Today, Robyn's twenty-four-seven performance was making her head hurt. She told herself it was the weather and her condition that was doing it.

"If there's rain then the players will have to slide in the mud and then they'll get dirty and then they'll need new uniforms and I…" now it was rehearsed, Mary heard the part she'd heard over and over again coming through. "I, Robyn Mary Shannon, born on the Fourth of July, would be more than happy to design…!"

"Sweetheart…" Brandi finally opened her mouth, Mark's feet clanking as he raced up the bleachers. "Honey, maybe that's enough," her mother extended her free arm to stop her. "People are trying to watch."

Fortunately, Robyn didn't get the chance to argue because Mark appeared, shiny behind his sunglasses and perspiring in the short-sleeve button-up and tie he was wearing. He must've had a meeting, which might explain his tardiness.

"Hey gang!" he called, weaving his way past Brandi, Max, and Robyn to get to Mary on the inside.

Robyn immediately climbed on his lap, glad not to have to stand anymore, and started yanking his tie up and down.

"Hey, little princess…" he seemed surprised, but hitched her around so she could watch and started fingering her pigtails. "Hey Mare…" he leaned to his shoulder partner and pecked her cheek.

"You're late," she accused.

"Hello to you, too," he mused, trying to adjust Robyn so she'd sit still. "How you feeling?"

Mary frowned, squinting in the sun, "Fine. Why would you ask?" she made the notion sound ridiculous.

"Because when I talked to Norah on Sunday she said you'd thrown up an entire plate of scrambled eggs," he reported swiftly.

"Norah needs to learn to keep things to herself," Mary groused, wishing she'd remembered her sunglasses in the car.

"Should you still be this sick when you're this far along?" Mark ignored her, making Robyn giggle when he swished her pigtails back and forth. "Have you seen someone about that?"

"Jesus, you're worse than Jinx," Mary mumbled, wondering if she'd ever get used to the way people harangued her about her health these days. "I'm an old lady, Mark; carting around a watermelon is usually reserved for the thirty year olds."

"I'd think Marshall would be more concerned about it," he didn't shut up, determined to get his piece in. "Or did his hovering finally break you and you – what? – punched his face in?"

"You are so sophomoric," Mary was unable to resist pointing out. "I've done nothing of the kind."

That wasn't to say she hadn't thought about it. For damn sure.

"How's the game going?" Mark asked, bouncing Robyn on his knee, which made her laugh again. "They been up to bat yet?"

"Haven't missed much," Mary told him, wondering if she could escape momentarily now that he was here. She really wanted something to drink. "They've got one out to go – Norah should be up in the next rotation. They were three-up, three-down in the first inning so she didn't get to bat."

"I've been meaning to ask you," her ex segued in, trying to be casual but Mary was not fooled. "I wanted to take her shopping for school supplies at the end of the week. Think you can spare her?"

"Mark, she doesn't start until after Labor Day," Mary protested, trying to make this excuse seem believable, not mentioning her and Marshall had already planned on it. "Don't you think you're jumping the gun?"

Before Mark could argue, Robyn opened her mouth. Evidently, being silent for two minutes was far too long.

"_I'm_ going to be in kindergarten," she announced, wiggling backwards on Mark's lap to tell him about it. "Mommy showed me how to write my name so I'll already know that when I get there," she boasted, never one to attempt humility. "That way, they can teach me to read right away."

"Counting on that, are you?" Mark poked his finger into the little girl's chest. "You've got awful big dreams, Robby."

"My name's _Robyn_, Mark," she sighed exasperatedly, but it was clear by the twinkle in her eyes that she enjoyed the moniker. "Robyn Mary Shannon and I was born on the Fourth of July!" she threw her arms in the air, any excuse to get it in like the actress she was.

"Don't I know it!" Mark teased, sticking his fingers in her armpits while they were up, making her shriek.

Brandi smiled watching them, and so did Max. He enjoyed his sister's exuberant nature, anyway, because he took his turn at squealing; loving the sound of it. His hair was getting to be a sight in the hot breeze and humidity; windswept, it was beginning to hang in his eyes like a sheepdog's. Mary often wondered if strangers looked at the three children and wondered why their parents didn't take them to a barber.

"Robyn, look!" Brandi declared while her daughter squirmed perilously on Mark's lap. "Norah's next! See her in the batter's box!"

Mary knew this was her cue to pay attention as well, watching her little one practice swinging several feet away from the current batter. She went through the same routine every time – swung once or twice, and then replaced the bat between her feet, adjusting the cap on her head. For a six-year-old kiddy league, she was very serious about her position.

"Make sure you let out a good whoop," Mark suggested while his honorary niece perched herself on the edge of his knees.

Mary wished he wouldn't encourage her tricks, but reminded herself Robyn didn't really need the idea. She blasted off like a rocket no matter; energy unrivaled, drama untouched. Her personality never ceased to baffle Mary, who had become accustomed to Norah's quiet, yet rugged nature.

The first batter made it onto base, which gave Mary's daughter something to work with when she stepped up, beating the bat on home plate.

"WOO GO NORAH!" Robyn shrieked, cupping her hands around her mouth for ample volume.

Mark followed suit, "Come on Norah!" And then Brandi, "Let's go Norah!"

Mary refused to join, not liking the spectacle her muddled-mixed-family was causing, missing Marshall's understated demeanor in this moment. But when Norah turned around, beaming ear-to-ear, the reason for the smile was the words, but its direction was aimed to the one who hadn't spoken. Mary knew it was silly, but she still believed her and Norah locked themselves in their own world. There had been a time – a short time, granted, but still a time – when it had been just the two of them. Her mother often thought that was imbedded deep within.

It was because of this that she muttered, "Come on Bug…" and flashed her an understated thumbs up before she whirled back around.

And, per usual, it didn't take long for Norah, a natural with a stick of wood, to smack the very first pitch into left field. With the contact, her little legs pumped, whirling and twirling toward first, a spinning, beating blur.

"Norah hit it; Norah hit it!" Robyn screamed as if nobody could hear, but she was dangling from Mark's neck like a monkey because he'd leapt to his feet in excitement. "And she's off for second…!" the little one turned it right on, but at least nobody was listening now. "I think she could try for home, folks!"

This was unlikely, but Mark grinned broadly beneath his sunglasses, turning his grin to Mary. She was still seated, clapping sedately like the perfect spectator.

"Stand up and cheer…" he was half-amused and half-exasperated. "At least so she can see you, come on…"

He tugged on her arm to get her up, which she obeyed, however reluctantly. He knew how she was.

"You sure you feel all right?" he asked once she was up, still caring all these years later. "Is Marshall coming?"

"How is Marshall supposed to help even if I _weren't_ feeling well?" she snarked as the clapping died down and Norah tottered excitedly in the distance on second base. "And I told you that I'm fine. I just don't need to do the song-and-dance. You band of banshees have got it covered," she gestured up and down the row.

She didn't know why it made her feel awkward, just because she never envisioned her life like this. Never pictured a niece with such an affinity for flair, a nephew and second child for Brandi, not to mention a little sister married off and happy. Let alone a child of her own and another on the way, one with Marshall's dark hair and blue eyes, perhaps. And a cordial ex-husband mingling among it all.

"Well, get yourself geared up once in awhile," Mark advised, trying to get Robyn to wind her legs around his waist so she wouldn't slip. "These days aren't gonna last forever."

"Come on, don't be that guy…" Mary tried to grin to show she was partially teasing. "The guy that needs to be a part of every single scrapbook memory because his _little girl_ is growing up _so fast_."

"She is!" Mark protested, but he was smiling too. "And kicking ass to boot!"

"You said the a-word!" Robyn bleated gleefully.

"Robyn, don't shout at Mark," Brandi chastised for once. "It was an accident."

The little girl ignored this as she always did, and instead decided now that Norah had-her her moment in the sun it was on to more important matters.

"Mommy, I want a drink," she proclaimed boldly. "My throat hurts."

Always the drama.

"That's because you've been yelling so much…" Brandi reached over to stroke her long pigtails, which were getting tangled, Max trying to snatch them as well. "Let's wait another inning or so; you can hang on that long…"

But Mary grabbed hold of the opportunity, "I'll take her down."

"Are you sure?" Brandi looked skeptical, knowing how night and day the aunt and niece were.

"You know, I can still walk and talk and function like a normal person, even if some rug-rat is twisting up my intestines," she informed her sister. "Give me a little credit, Squish."

"Okay…" Brandi sighed while Mark put Robyn on the ground. "Be a good girl. Hold Mary's hand."

Mary herself rolled her eyes, not endeared to the idea. Norah always held her hand because her daughter didn't like the idea that she could be left accidentally. Robyn never held hands because she was too busy scampering all over the place, and she needed it more than her cousin.

"Can we take Max?" Robyn asked, bouncing up and down to try and swat her brother.

"No, you can't take Max," Brandi told her. "Mary has enough to be carrying around."

Nice.

"Come on, babe…" Mary shoved her out of the row, sweeping with her big hands. "We can get the supersize and share it."

Robyn bounced ahead of her, thrilled at the prospect, and hopping down steps two at a time. Mary paused to drop a kiss on Max's waves before departing behind her, pretending not to notice Brandi's simpering grin with the affection.

There was an overhang below the bleachers where they sold concessions, housing a few clusters of tables and overlooking the home dugout. The games were always casual; parents could come and go to talk to their kids and they only played five innings to decrease the chance of the kids getting worn out or bored too early.

Mary was glad for the shade as she stood in line, Robyn skittering around at her side while she debated on drinks, smoothing bills in her palm.

"What do you want, babe?" Mary asked her niece, the nickname the best she could do in terms of something girly; she didn't relish it, but Robyn seemed to. "Sprite or orange soda?"

She didn't need anything with caffeine, the way she was going. As it was, she managed to come to a halt and threw her arms around Mary's waist – more accurately, her belly – and stared up at her with her huge doe-like eyes. There was a begging glance in her too-sweet smile.

"Red fruit punch!" she requested, blinking fast in attempts to sway her aunt. "Pleeeeeeease!"

She was good on caffeine, at least, but Mary had said they'd share and fruit punch wouldn't have been her choice.

"That stuff makes your teeth red," Mary informed her, trying to sway her decision. "Not the best look."

"Pleeeeeease!" more batting of her eyelashes. "I'm _so_ thirsty and it's _so_ good!" she pressed each 'so' distinctly so Mary could not miss the importance of her need.

She wasn't up to arguing and Robyn's hands were tight around her stomach as she pleaded. That was something they could stand to get out of the way right now.

"Fine," her aunt agreed reluctantly just as they reached the window and she ordered. "Supersize fruit punch and a funnel cake."

Marshall would scold her, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Who was to say she'd get sick? She wouldn't know unless she took the chance. The little one twitching in her tummy was making her hungrier than usual. It didn't seem to matter how much or how many times she puked. She was still always hungry.

Mary took the cake on its paper plate, dusted with a crapload of powdered sugar and secured it before taking the drink off the ledge. Just as she was getting balanced, she heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Mom! Mommy!"

She turned and there was Norah, hanging on the fence that looked into the snacking area, leaning her elbows on the chain link. Judging by what was going on behind her, some other child was playing her second-base position in the outfield so she got a break this inning. A few other little girls were milling in the dugout, Mary noticed as she walked over and Robyn raced ahead.

"You looked good out there, Bug…" Mary praised when they made it over. Robyn was tugging at the hem of her shirt, wanting the drink. "Hold with both hands…" she directed her niece. "I'm serious; you'll drop it and you're not getting another."

Fortunately, Robyn obeyed just as Norah noticed the other treat.

"You got a funnel cake!" she squealed. "I thought you said you weren't going to!"

"Appetite had other ideas," Mary grumbled. "Here love; have a piece…" she tore some loose and handed it to her daughter, who scarfed it down right away.

Meanwhile, Robyn was slurping loudly while Mary and her daughter devoured the funnel cake, Norah secured on the fence by squeezing her sneakers into the chains woven into diamonds. Mary couldn't help noticing that even with the move; Robyn was still sheltered awfully close in her side, her ear practically to her belly. She couldn't fully put her arms around her with the 'both hands' direction, but Mary sensed she would've if she could.

"Robyn, what are you doing?" Mary asked, not sure she really wanted to know. "It's ninety-five degrees out here; not exactly the best time to buddy-up."

Pulling her lips up from the straw, "I'm _trying_ to hear the baby," it was said as though Mary should've known. "But I can't."

Mary wrinkled her nose, "You're what? What do you expect to hear? The kid's not gonna say hello; sorry to disappoint, Rob."

Her niece sighed, straightening from her stance while Norah looked on curiously.

"Norah says she kicks…"

"He!" the mentioned argued at once.

"Nuh-uh!" Robyn stuck a hand on her hip. "It's a she! I _know_ it!"

"You do not; I said it's a boy!"

"Listen, experts…" Mary stepped between them, not up for a brawl. "Nobody knows, and there's no point in guessing. Get back to the excavation," she nodded at Robyn, knowing she shouldn't have used such a big word with such a little kid. "The baby does kick. So?"

"So, _I've_ never felt it," she pouted. "Norah gets to all the time."

"Not all the time," Norah looked faintly embarrassed by this being broadcast. "Like, once or twice. It doesn't feel like anything."

But Robyn still had her lip stuck way out, looking disgruntled, her pigtails a little limp. She'd only been three when Max was born and didn't remember searching for her brother beneath the belly. So now she was after Mary's spawn. It was true Norah had gotten a taste of the beating within – mostly courtesy of Marshall – but she was disinterested for the most part. Robyn, not yet afforded the luxury, wanted the chance more than ever.

"Well, I'm not on a clock babe…" Mary informed the little girl. "I can't do it on command or anything."

Robyn was about to respond when another familiar voice floated into their midst – one that shut them all up.

"You're _not_ eating funnel cake…"

Mary spun around to where the sound came from, but she had no chance to explain herself because identical shrieks to go with their identical looks erupted out of Norah and Robyn.

"MARSHALL!"

Norah tried to climb over the fence to reach him, but he extended a hand to push her back down. Robyn had bounced up on the spot, nearly dropping the drink which was already half gone. Noticing her plight, she shoved it at Mary who was forced to shove the treat at Norah as though to hide it.

"Hello, my ladies…" Marshall greeted them in his T-shirt and jeans, leaning under Norah's hat to kiss her cheek and bending to do the same to Robyn. She could reach him and she practically lifted herself into his arms; fortunately, he got the idea and hoisted her up. "How you playing, champ?" he asked of Norah.

"I got to second on a hit and made it to third, but then the next person got the third out so I didn't get to go home," she ended a little sadly. "But the hit I got was a double…" she repeated.

"That is tremendous," Marshall told her. "And how's my Broadway babe?" he turned to the cousin to inquire. "Let me hear the speech."

Robyn tried to gear herself up to begin, but Marshall was too quick even for her.

"Nope! No time to think! You gotta go! That's how they do it on stage!"

Robyn took a deep breath, trying not to giggle on each word, "_My_ name is Robyn Mary Shannon! I am five years old and I was _born_ on the Fourth of July!" she was accenting the wrong words but didn't seem to care. "For my act today I am going to…to…to…" she started laughing and shook her head. "I don't know! I can't think of it – I can't remember!"

"You're getting better though," Marshall assured her. "Your first audition in twenty years will be a snap!"

"_Twenty_ years? I'll be old then! I'll do it tomorrow!" Robyn declared.

Marshall chuckled and deposited the girl back to the ground, where she slipped her own feet in the fence to talk to Norah. But Mary noticed her daughter's eyes were with Marshall, and she couldn't resist getting her time in.

"Mom said you weren't coming," she reminded them all. "She said you had to work."

"I did…" Marshall agreed. "Wasn't as tricky as I thought; I was able to sneak away…" he threw a wink her direction. "Good thing; I won't miss you tearing it up next time."

This was enough for Norah at the moment and she turned to her younger cousin, sharing secrets and stories as they always did, which left time for Mary and Marshall.

"Hello, by the way…" he greeted her and bent to kiss her lips, first once and then twice before he was satisfied.

"Hey…" Mary returned the favor. "You're done already?"

"Like I said, a sort of false alarm deal," he detailed. "Delia's handling what's left."

"You don't need me?" she always asked even though she knew better.

"We do not," he indulged her. And then, proving he hadn't forgotten, "Why are you eating funnel cake? It made you sick last time."

"It's not like it's a guarantee," Mary huffed, annoyed. "I was hungry. Sue me."

"But Mare, I'm getting worried about all the vomiting still going on…" he gestured in the region of her belly. "I know they said you're okay; sometimes it lasts longer for some women, but why take the chance?"

"Cause I got a whole entourage waiting to pick me up…" Mary recalled everyone asking about her state-of-being and decided to use it. "Ain't nothing happening to this," she took her turn at referencing the bump.

"You are painfully difficult sometimes," Marshall informed her. "You know that right?"

"Yup. And that's why you love me."

XXX

**A/N: I know this one was quite a bit longer. (Hopefully that's a good thing?) Anyway, hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank-you again for reviewing! I am glad so many people are enjoying so far!**

XXX

It hit Mary around two in the morning. She told herself with each roll of her gut that it wasn't what she thought it was. If she stayed still long enough it would go away. She settled stiff as a board; eyes shut tighter than they would be ordinarily, and tried to force whatever was coming back down her throat. It was always worse at night when she was so tired. She felt slower and heavier when she'd been in bed after a long day.

The moan that escaped wasn't planned, but it was anguished. Mostly, it was getting up that she dreaded. She could just go back to sleep if she worked at it. And then she wouldn't have anything to fear until morning. But, trepidation crawled at her insides; she knew the sensation too well at this point to deny that it wasn't leaving.

That damn funnel cake didn't taste so good the second time. He'd told her so. He always did. It was this thought that prompted another sickened groan, wondering how long she had before she'd have to run for the bathroom. It was also the noise that stirred Marshall beside her in the darkness; she hadn't known he was awake.

"Mary…" he whispered sweetly.

Another growl. Her time was limited. She could tell already.

"Mare?" he repeated; she could feel him roll over, her back to him. "You all right?"

She rolled too, although she knew it was a mistake because the feeling just tumbled faster. She was giving it a head start. But she'd done it so Marshall would see her shake her head side-to-side on the pillow, dramatic and a little Robyn-esque.

"Are you sick?" he already knew the answer, hand reaching out to smooth her hair. "Do you want me to go with you?"

She shook her head again, wanting him to be able to sleep and not have to worry about her. She had this feeling a lot on the days where she lost just about everything she ate – she was an idiot. What was she thinking; pregnant at forty-five? But, she loved Marshall and she loved Norah and it had seemed like the next step. Marshall sometimes had to remind her how worth it-it would be.

"You better head on…" his voice was soothing in the gloom. "You'll be pissed as hell at yourself if you hit the floor."

She knew this would be true somewhere down the line, but right now she was so tired she wondered if the price of ruining the bed was all that much. She talked herself off that ledge and abided Marshall's request, inching to the edge of the bed to get out.

The rolling got quicker then and she had to pick up the pace, even on auto-pilot. Her feet were ahead of her body as she shuffled faster and faster into the bathroom. She could taste the cake in her throat, could feel it creeping along her tongue, stomach spinning feverishly with each step. Her hand found the light switch in the bathroom and pushed upward. She was even used to the blinding glare by now.

Her knees hadn't bent to the linoleum for more than two seconds before it all came up. She felt for Marshall in the next room, not wanting him to have to listen to the revolting sound. She just hoped it all came at once, because frolicking on the baseball diamond the day before had taken enough out of her.

Mary was sweaty and clammy when she emerged, and she knew even though she'd told him to stay put that Marshall was standing in the doorway. He never listened when she claimed she didn't need him; he cared too much to just sit idly by. If only she didn't look so grotesquely large, even from behind.

"Are you okay?" his voice was softer still.

She nodded, thinking she might've been spared a second round this time. She ran a hand over her cheek, feeling how moist her skin had become. Her throat had gone dry; not all together a surprise.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked Marshall hoarsely.

Wordlessly, he went to the sink and filled one of the paper cups on the counter while Mary hoisted herself off the floor and flushed the toilet. She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes, taking a slow sip while he watched, concerned as ever.

"Thanks…" she muttered in regards to him getting her the drink.

When she looked at him again, his blue eyes were understated in their worry, blinking into hers with a kind of curiosity. They'd been told over and over again that queasiness persisted during the later months for some expectant mothers, and so Marshall continued to speculate on his own time what the cause might be.

"That it for the night?" was what he said, however.

"I think…" Mary swallowed her drink, hoping so.

Marshall stretched his neck and kissed her temple, long and pressed deep against her skin. Sometimes, she thought such a touch was the only cure she ever needed. She closed her eyes, tingling with the contact, the hand that was not holding the water floating to the side of her belly. She always felt strangely conspicuous in her stretchy drawstring pants and oversized shirts that she wore for bed these days.

"You shouldn't have to go through this," was Marshall's aptly-used wisdom. "Honestly, it shouldn't be this hard…"

"Well, it's not like I'm good at 'easy,'" Mary quipped as best she could.

At that moment, there was the unmistakable sound of a door opening down the hall and Mary let out a groan for a different reason this time. She knew Norah was awake – whether because she'd heard her mother or for some other instance, there was no telling. One way or another though, she always seemed to know when Mary was out of bed.

She moved to take care of her child, but Marshall stopped her.

"I'll go, I'll go…" he assured her. "You need to go back to bed; get some sleep."

"She's not gonna ask for you…" Mary was forced to remind him. "I need to at least talk to her; you can put her back down."

"All right…" Marshall was resigned as they left the bathroom, back to the bedroom.

Norah was already peeking through the door that led to the hall when they emerged. Her big eyes blinked fast, trying not to intrude but wanting reassurance of some kind. She could sometimes be prone to bad dreams and whatever else haunted a six-year-old's mind.

"Hey champ…" Marshall whispered kindly. "Something happen?" he was always casual, never acting as though it were the middle of the night when she needed a pep-talk.

"Marshall…" her voice was a little quivery as she ventured all the way inside, looking small in the enormous Marshal T-shirt she wore as a nightgown.

He knelt down in front of her, patting her spectacularly tangled hair. There always looked like there was more of it when it wasn't buried beneath a ball cap.

"What?" he prompted.

"Marshall…" Norah swallowed, eyes darting up to her mother's before settling back on the man's face. "Is there such things as octopuses?"

Mary bit her lip in trying not to let out an exasperated sigh. Why on earth was this important at two in the morning? Where had she even come up with such an idea?

But Marshall was patient, "Yes," he nodded. "But there aren't any in New Mexico, I can promise you that. They're way-way out in the ocean…" he even gestured with his arm to indicate this. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I just dreamed that one was trying to eat me…" she confessed, wringing her hands. "I was underwater and all his arms were squeezing me. Do they really have eight of them?"she sounded flabbergasted.

"They do. That's what 'octo' means - eight," Marshall assured her. "Where did you hear about octopuses?" he stood back up and held out his arms, lifting her into the air as a means to get her back to bed.

"Robyn…" she sniffled a little. "They were in this magazine when Brandi and mom took us to the doctor's office the other day…" she ran an arm under her nose to keep it from dripping, although she wasn't really crying. "Robyn said they wrap you up and pull you into the ocean and then they…"

"Norah, you know Robyn likes to exaggerate," Marshall reminded her as Mary stepped over and ran her fingers through some of the knots in her hair. "We talked about what exaggerate means. Do you remember?"

"Stretch the truth…" Norah hiccupped. "Right?"

"That's right. She has some fun with her imagination, but she doesn't want to upset you and sometimes she makes things sound a lot scarier than they are," Marshall told her. "Come on back to bed; I'll tuck you in…"

Norah nodded agreeably, used to Marshall's long, lanky arms keeping her safe from whatever penetrated in her subconscious. Mary, pleased that the crisis had been averted, kissed her daughter's temple just as Marshall had done with her, running her hand up and down her back.

"Night Bug…" she whispered. "No octopuses are slithering under this roof; you know I'd just blast 'em off their eight legs right?"

Norah gave a shaky giggle, "Uh-huh." And then, noticing the light on in the bedroom, "Were you throwing up again, mommy?"

She was weirdly fascinated by the workings of Mary's internal system.

"Just once this time…" her mother joked, holding out her fist for Norah to pound. "A record, right?"

Norah nudged her tiny fist against Mary's large one and smiled softly. She looked at her with a little something like yearning, like she wanted the one from whence she'd come to hold her close when the shadows broke in. But she was too worried about upsetting the balance, about causing Mary some sort of inconvenience, knowing how Marshall fretted about the welfare of the baby.

But Mary knew the look, and she couldn't let her get away untouched. With her still high in Marshall's arms, she held out her own and Norah's head fell onto her shoulder. They made an awkward trio, picking odd moments to attempt a hug, but what could you do?

"Don't get all bent out, N, okay?" Mary liked the feeling of her head under her chin, squeezing her shoulder. "There's no octopuses or snakes or starfish or flying monkeys; not in this house."

Norah yawned, "Flying monkeys?"

"That's what Brandi was afraid of when she was little," Mary revealed in her ear.

"But there's no such things as flying monkeys…" she topped this off with another yawn and Marshall nudged her with his cheek, getting the little one to sit up so Mary could get to bed. But she remained skeptical, "Are there?"

"No, love," Mary chuckled. "See you in the morning. I love you."

"Love you mommy…" Norah murmured, transitioning as she often did between 'mom' and 'mommy' unsure how grown-up or how small she wished to sound.

With this, Marshall carted her back to her own bedroom and Mary watched them disappear down the hall, Norah's head lolling onto Marshall's shoulder. She wasn't asleep yet, but could convince herself it all wasn't as bad as it seemed when she had those larger, smarter, and greater than she to chase the fears away.

Norah's room was dark but for the nightlight when Marshall arrived, seeing her covers pulled back where the child had left them. He slipped her down amid the sheets as she snuggled into her pillow, Rupunzel-like locks spread out all over. Her eyes flickered back and forth, open to shut, as he pulled the blankets up and adjusted them around her chest.

"Try to go back to sleep…" Marshall suggested, laying a light kiss on Norah's forehead. "Think of something nice…" he rubbed her belly hoping it would calm her. "What sounds nice and relaxing?"

Norah hummed thoughtfully and reopened her eyes to fix Marshall with a perplexed stare. They were dulled in the blackness of the bedroom, little slits in her beautiful face.

"I don't know how to _think_ relaxing things…" her mind was too young to grope that far.

"All right, then let's try this…" Marshall realized his blunder and tucked the long strands of her hair behind her ears so they didn't drift in her face. "What makes you happy?"

"Happy?" she whispered.

"Mmm hmm…" Marshall nodded. "What makes you _so_ happy that you can't stand to be away from it when you're asleep, so you need to make sure you dream about it instead?"

Norah cocked her head, even on the pillow, "I never thought you could do that."

Marshall smiled softly; the most genuine grin he had was likely the one he continually fed Norah.

"You can do anything if you try hard enough."

Norah had nothing to say to that, as Marshall often reminded her to reach for the stars. For some reason, he felt she needed to hear it more than, say, Robyn. He never worried about her confidence, but she often flew solo, preferring to be independent than in a group. He always just hoped that was what she liked best, and not because she so closely took after her mother in such a department.

His girl closed her eyes, "I like when daddy lets me kick the soccer ball at his house…"

"I know you do," Marshall encouraged quietly. "Since mom doesn't let you do that here."

Norah ignored the comment, "And when Robyn calls me 'her majesty' just because it sounds so silly…"

"That Robyn," Marshall reinforced, shaking his head at the absurdity even though Norah couldn't see him with her eyes shut. "They don't come much sillier."

She yawned a third time, wiggling further down beneath her covers and turning on her side, "When Jinx and Brandi took us to that place with the Ferris wheel…" her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. "It was so high…"

Marshall remembered. Her and Robyn had ridden in separate cars; Norah because she wanted enough room and Robyn so she could wave like the queen at the people down below.

"You had fun…" he ran his fingers across her hair, watched her chest ride and fall with her breathing. "Think of anything else you need to dream about before you drift off?"

He didn't want to go until he was sure Norah was ready. He'd be drowsy in the morning, but he was also the boss. Strictly speaking, Mary was off the clock until a designated date and he only had Delia and the newly-reinstated Charlie to order around.

"Mmm…" Norah considered, and what came out of her mouth surprised Marshall in the most wonderful of ways. "Mom…"

At first, he wasn't sure he'd understood her; her voice was trailing as she dozed away, seemingly no longer paying attention to Marshall. She'd convinced herself at this point; told herself what she needed in order to scare the spirits away.

"Did you say your mom?"

Marshall wasn't sure why he prompted, because it was plain she was going back to sleep but a selfish part of him wanted to know.

"Yeah…" she was high-pitched and sweet. "You said what makes me happy. And she makes me happier than anybody."

Marshall felt his heart diluting into quite a puddle at that moment, unsure if he'd be able to keep from crying at hearing such a thing.

"That's a very kind thing to say, Norah…" he told her quietly. "You make her happier than anybody too."

"Yeah…" she shifted onto her back again, and her 'yeah' sounded different on this front, like it was uncertain after what Marshall had said. Her eyes slipped open, "She's so funny, and she's smart, isn't she?" again with the uncertainty.

"Of course she is."

"And she's nice…"

Marshall wondered if there was anybody on God's green earth that had ever called Mary 'nice' in her entire life. But the reason for the doubt was about to be revealed. Norah's brow furrowed and Marshall was almost regretting that he'd roused her again.

"Why doesn't anybody else think so?" the little girl continued. "She always laughs and says she doesn't have friends, except for you and dad and Brandi. But, that must make her sad. Don't people _want_ to be her friend?"

Marshall hadn't anticipated such a question during this time of night, let alone any other. But, he could tell by the longing in Norah's eyes that she'd thought about this for a long time and had provided herself the perfect opportunity to ask without even trying.

"Well…"

He wanted to appear casual and he placed a warm and gentle hand on her shoulder beneath the blankets.

"Your mom's tricky that way," he settled on. "She kind of likes to be by herself. She always has."

"Why?"

Marshall had a good response for this inquiry," Well, why do _you_ like to be by yourself sometimes?"

And Norah knew the answer, "Because I want to do something my way and not have somebody else mess it up."

Marshall smiled, "Just like your mom."

This time, Norah smiled too. But, Marshall also recognized that there was maybe a small something else on her mind with the man's reassurance that their similarities came from 'just the way Mary was.' Now that they were in this deep, they might as well finish it off.

"She wouldn't, like…" Norah hedged, trying to get the words out just right. "Like…want to be by herself…" a sigh. "Without me, would she?"

Marshall shook his head slowly, showing that he had no qualms about what he was about to say, "Not a chance, gorgeous. I cross my heart on that."

Norah was boosted, "And…she's going to marry you someday, right?"

The man started, not all together certain why he was surprised because an impending wedding had been a part of Norah's life since before she could remember. Mary and Marshall had always said they'd tie the knot when the timing presented itself, but they weren't even officially engaged. Back when they'd both been working, they'd been too busy with WITSEC and Norah. These days, it had simply become an ambiguous date on the very distant horizon. Eventually. Sometime. Whenever.

But, Marshall himself had started to want to pin things down more lately with their child on the way. He'd brought it up to Mary a few times but she'd always waved him off, saying they didn't need to be married to be a couple. He knew it wasn't really her thing, but he couldn't help wanting it.

"Someday," he finally answered Norah's question. "I hope."

"Someday's kind of a long time," she mused, having heard it before.

"It can be," Marshall agreed. "But Norah, whether we have a big fancy wedding or not, you know I'm not going anywhere, don't you? Whatever happens, you and I are family."

"Even though we're not actually related?" she questioned as she was often known to do.

"Even then," Marshall reinforced. "I love you, champ."

He was relieved to see her close her eyes another time and roll back onto her side, ready to go to sleep.

"I love you more, Marshall."

XXX

**A/N: I was so glad when a few of you wanted Marshall/Norah time because I had it all ready to go! Hope it lived up to it's promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm so glad so many of you liked the Marshall/Norah bonding time, and that you all recognized that I want Norah to kind of have her own unique relationships with each of her parents or parental figures (I know there hasn't been much of Mark yet, but he's supposed to be in there too LOL!)**

XXX

Trying to do two things at once was Mary's strong suit; sometimes even three or four things. The attempt was in full swing as she clamped her cell to her shoulder with Norah seated on the counter in front of her, sporting a spectacularly bloody knee. She was disturbed when it came to nightmares, but scrapes and cuts never caused a tear.

"No…Marshall, wait a second…" she said to the man on the other end of the line, not having heard properly. "Who's in the hospital again?" Norah kicking her feet against the cabinets reminded her to be mindful what she said. "You're not hearing this, right?" she posed to her daughter.

"Not hearing it," Norah replied as expected. "Only, I _am_; I'll just pretend I'm not."

"Yeah, whatever…" Mary waved her away while she rooted in the upper cupboards for some band-aids. Norah always kept quiet; it was Robyn they had to worry about. "Tell me again," she repeated to Marshall.

"It's Scott; your basketball kid," he reported swiftly.

"Well, he's not really a kid anymore…" Mary stood on tiptoe trying to listen.

"Regardless," Marshall cut in. "He's in the hospital because his appendix burst; his wife's there with him now."

"Is he okay?" Mary took care to ask, yanking the band aids down so roughly they tumbled to the floor. Until this moment she'd forgotten Scott was married. "That doesn't sound like a Wimbledon issue."

'Wimbledon' was their ridiculous code word for 'WITSEC' which they used when the kids – or anybody else for that matter – were around. Mary often wondered what they would change it to when one or all of the children figured out what Wimbledon actually was – and that tennis didn't mesh with US Marshals.

"Well, it's not," Marshall took care to answer her assumption while she bent with a groan to retrieve the band-aids. "But, you know some hospitals can be thorny with paperwork and he's not at Mesa Regional. Do you know where the copies we've got of his medical records are? The revised ones?"

"Why don't I just come down there?" Mary suggested. And then, to Norah, "Quick kicking. Kicking happens _outside_, not in."

Norah pouted briefly, looking a little sickened by her knee now, but also somewhat interested.

"You can fill out the forms tonight," Marshall placated his woman. "Speaking of tonight, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Mary tuned in a little better at this, "Like what?"

"Just something Norah mentioned to me last night," he threw off carelessly. "Nothing to worry about."

Mary's eyes fell to her daughter at that point, and she was disinterested in the discussion but Mary couldn't help wondering what she'd said. Maybe she could plumb her for facts later if she remembered.

"Okay…" Mary said uncertainly. "About Scott – his files should be in the third row of the file cabinets; you might have to root around but I'm pretty sure they're buried somewhere in the depths."

"Nice…" Marshall chuckled. "Thanks."

Mary heard the sound of the front door opening, meaning Brandi had arrived with Robyn and Max, ready to drop off her youngest child in favor of taking her elder to dance class with Jinx. Her niece was already bellowing something at the top of her lungs, which meant hearing much more from Marshall was out the window.

"I've gotta go…" she sighed. "Brandi's here."

Marshall acknowledged this and added his farewell before hanging up. A little too flippantly, Mary tossed her cell to the counter by the sink and it skidded with a bang. She hoped in hindsight she had not broken it, but was too worried about tending to Norah before she bled out right there in the kitchen.

"Bug, what happened here?" her mother asked exasperatedly as she eyed the gash across her knee, which was still dripping. "What were you doing in the yard?"

"I just fell…" Norah answered evasively, but the rest of her explanation was cut off by the true arrival of the Shannon-Alpert gang, loud and messy as always.

"I'm here!" Robyn announced, and Mary spared her a look to see her twirling inside wearing a pink tutu. It was hitched up in back and you could glimpse her underpants underneath, but it was plain nobody else noticed. "Mommy, count how many times I go 'round on my toes, and then I can tell Jinx when I get to class!"

"Honey, not right now…" Brandi muttered distractedly, trying to quiet Max who was screeching. "Hi Mare…"

"Norah, I'm gonna have to wash this out…" Mary completely ignored her sister as she got a better look at her daughter's abrasion. "Sit tight."

Norah sighed loudly, but turned to her aunt in favor of something to keep her occupied, "Can I hold Max?" she stuck out her arms from where she perched atop the counter.

"Sorry…" Brandi smiled at her niece, sympathetic but somewhat firm. "He's in a mood; better let him calm down first." And then, "Robyn, watch out! You're going to run into Mary."

For the younger girl was like a top, a tornado as she whirled through the kitchen, her long golden locks in a tremendously sloppy bun on her head. She had way too much hair to get it all in there, and so Brandi usually just threw it together as best she could, strands falling out all over the place.

"I'm practicing!" Robyn declared to the scolding. "For Broadway!"

Nobody answered that, and Mary reflected while she wet a washcloth at the sink that she lived in quite the funhouse these days. Part of it was embarrassing, but in some ways it was more demanding than WITSEC and that kept her feeling like she was working when she wasn't blasting the felons off their asses.

"Hi again, Mare…" Brandi repeated once the water stopped running.

"Hi…" she managed, wringing out her fabric.

"You feeling better today?" her sister pressed.

"I felt fine yesterday," Mary reminded her, choosing not to mention her vomiting spell in the middle of the night.

"Whatever 'fine' means to you," Brandi teased in an undertone. "Mare, I hate to dump him on you; I know you've got your hands full. But, I'm late getting Robyn to dance…"

"Never mind that her _grandmother's_ the teacher and doesn't care…" Mary grumbled as she went back to Norah.

"And I need to get to work," Brandi cut through Mary's side note, referring to the retail clothing store in which she worked these days, something of an assistant-assistant manager. "I get off at six and Peter should be back by five-thirty…"

"I thought he was in Helena or Hampton or…" Mary couldn't remember as Brandi shoved squirmy, wiggly Max into her arms, forcing her to toss the washcloth to the counter.

"Hartford," Brandi finally helped her out. "He's in Hartford, but his flight left twenty minutes ago."

That was all Mary needed to know, and instead focused on getting Max to chill out, but part of her couldn't blame his need to flail all over the place. His hair had gotten so long in front it was covering his eyes, and she had to brush the waves out of the way twice just to get a glimpse of him. It was almost down to his collar in back and he wasn't even two yet. Where had he acquired all of it at such a young age?

"Squish, his hair is getting ridiculous…" Mary couldn't help herself from pointing out; using her three middle fingers to sweep it over his head, hoping it would stay there. "He looks like a hobo."

Brandi chuckled, "I know; my little sheepdog. I haven't had a chance to get it cut yet."

Norah seemed to enjoy her cousin's sand-colored strands and kept reaching up to pull them down and up again, playing some version of peek-a-boo. Max seemed to enjoy it too and giggled feverishly at her game.

"Love, come on; sit still…" was Mary's response to her daughter's activities, swinging Max out of her reach.

"Robyn!" Brandi called, nearly drowning out her sister. The little girl whirled back onto the scene, banging into a barstool on the way. "Let's go baby, come on! Say goodbye!"

Mary reflected that their tiny dancer hadn't even said hello, but she took her mother's words to heart and halted long enough to wave and blow several kisses on the spot.

"Farewell, dah-lings!" she sang, stretching out each letter in the second word. "I will return!"

Mary had already occupied herself poking some grapes into Max's mouth from Norah's abandoned lunch at the island, which he chewed up with much puffing of his cheeks.

"You like that?" she asked her nephew, and then recalled she needed to throw Robyn a bone. "Bye babe; see you later…" she muttered vaguely.

But, her niece forever expected more in terms of a dramatic exit, and Mary felt herself nearly bowled over as the child crashed into her waist. Her arms had flung out like a monkey around her aunt's rotund belly, causing Brandi to gasp in – Mary wasn't sure – perhaps horror.

"Robyn!" she scolded, not knowing what was going on. "That's why you have to be careful; you'll hit people," she dashed over to snatch her daughter's hand, but Mary shook her head, annoyed with Brandi's overreaction.

"Squish, it's nothing…"

Robyn ignored both of them, "I can't feel _anything_!" she pouted, hands crawling all over Mary's stomach, which made the woman feel very self-conscious, even if it was just Brandi and the kids. "When will I feel something?" she gave Mary her best innocent look, staring up with heartache and longing.

"You'll be the first to know…" Mary grumped half-heartedly just as Brandi yanked her away.

"Are you sure there's really a baby in there?" Robyn posed, her mother practically dragging her to the door as she spoke over her shoulder.

"See you later…" Mary just waved to her sister, unsure what to say to Robyn's inquiry, hitching Max up so he wouldn't fall.

"Bye Mare," Brandi laughed. "Thanks."

It was like a damper had been put on the entire room when the door slammed shut from the breeze outside. Mary hadn't noticed until they'd left that it was Robyn who had been making most of the noise. Except for Max's whining for more fruit and Norah still banging her feet despite her mother's warning, it was quiet. Mary could feel her heart beating again. Sometimes, she was used to the chaos but other times it snuck up on her, giving her that trademark feeling she was living someone else's life.

Sighing a little dramatically, she picked up another grape to feed to Max, "Here you go, moppet. Chow down."

With that, she gave him the rest of the bowl and deposited him atop the island, hoping he'd be able to see long enough to get through the remainder of his food. Then, Mary turned back to Norah, feeling a little badly she'd neglected her daughter in favor of the circus reining in the house.

"Norah, how you doing?" she asked, retrieving the washcloth, which was dripping all over the counter. "Sorry this took so long. Does it hurt?" she tucked a hair behind her ear as she scrutinized her daughter's knee again.

"No…" Norah shook her head, but recoiled significantly when Mary touched the wound, smearing the blood across the skin. "_That_ hurts!" she whined at once, not liking the press.

"I know Bug, but I don't want it to get gross; give me a second…" her mother was casual as she usually was about pain.

Norah accepted this without much complaint, taking Mary through washing out her scratches and securing the marks with a band-aid. When she looked up again, her child was gazing at Max, working her mouth side-to-side, cocking one eye like she was studying him. Mary was startled by how much it made her look like Brandi.

"What?" her mother prompted, sticking the skin as securely as she could. "You trying to turn Max into a frog, or what?"

Norah shook her head, but didn't bother to correct her, "He looks like one of those rock guys – the ones with the guitars – the kind you hate when they come on TV."

"Yeah, a heavy metal head-banger," Mary mused with disdain. "You've got Brandi to blame for that."

Norah was still looking skeptical, and Mary allowed her that while she tucked under her arms and lifted her down off the counter with a groan.

"Jesus…" she muttered quietly enough her daughter probably couldn't hear. "You're like a sack of bricks, Bug. When did you get so heavy?"

Mary knew her sense of how weighted Norah might actually be was a little off considering she was six months pregnant with a second child that made just about everything seem heavier. But, it appeared her daughter didn't care how much strain she was causing her mother, because she pranced right over to Max on her bad knee to get a better look.

And then, "We could take him to get his hair cut. And then you could see his eyes," she stood on tiptoe to try and touch said hair, but couldn't quite reach. "You could surprise Brandi."

Mary scoffed, "Like I'm footing the bill because Brandi let him look like a homeless person," she joined Norah and swept Max's bangs away, which prompted him to try and feed her one of his grapes, but Mary pushed it back into his hand.

Norah wasn't entirely sure what Mary had said, but pressed on, "Well, _you_ could cut it mommy."

And Mary scoffed even louder, "Do I look like some salon stylist, N? Get real," she even rumpled her child's super-long-locks to reinforce the point.

Norah gave her-her best incredulous look, blinking with superiority and resembling Robyn rather than Brandi this time. Even in her red raglan shirt, denim shorts, and scraggly hair, she could project sass.

"_Marshall_ says you can do _anything_ if you try hard enough."

Mary rolled her eyes at the man's oft-used wisdom, having half-a-mind to tell him to quit putting such ideas in her daughter's head. And yet, she really couldn't fault him on this one, even if it didn't quite fit the situation as Norah was anticipating.

"And what if I screw up?" she asked her child, hardly daring to believe she was taking this at all seriously. "And he goes bald. You gonna explain to Brandi and Peter how he ended up looking like some little old man with no teeth?"

Norah giggled, "_I_ don't think you'll mess up."

Oh, the faith her child could have.

"What about this is appealing to you?" Mary stuck a hand on her hip as she inquired, feeling a sharp kick to her gut, mourning Robyn's absence and unable to be quick enough to hide the wince that escaped.

Norah's deviousness suddenly turned to concern, "Did the baby hurt you?"

"No Norah…" she shook her head quickly to ease her mind, caressing the side of her belly to try and settle the being within. "No. I'm okay; just surprised. That's the kind of surprise we're gonna be giving Brandi if we end up having to shave Max's head."

"But don't you want him to look nice?" Norah seemingly forgot about the jab her sibling had given Mary and plowed onward. "It would make Robyn happy too."

Mary had no idea where this fit of inspiration had struck her child, but she was probably bored or else feeling particularly wily. She got that way sometimes; she sailed along, moderate and calm, but when the storm blew through she could rock and roll. She was Mary and Mark at the strangest of times.

But, Mary began to waver, as she was indeed sick of haranguing Brandi about Max's look. Since he was walking these days, he needed to see where he was going. Vaguely, she wondered if her haywire hormones were warming to the thought.

"Get me some scissors…"

Norah's tongue poked between her teeth, revealing the missing one on the bottom as she dashed over to the counter. She lifted herself onto her elbows, which didn't look very comfortable, and hung by her forearms trying to grope for the mug where all the office supplies were contained. Meanwhile, Mary started analyzing her subject, yanking every strand of hair Max had down over his forehead so he resembled something along the lines of Cousin It. Blissfully, the silent nature he'd developed with the girls around kept him quiet and he rotated his bowl in his fingers.

Norah returned with the scissors, "Here!" she presented them to Mary with a flourish.

Without further ado, she pushed one of the barstools to the island and clambered on top of it so she could watch, like it was a show. Mary didn't especially want an audience, but Norah was typically pretty good at containing herself when she had to.

"You're a bad influence, you know that?" Mary said as she raked her fingers through Max's sandy strands another time, trying to get them to lay somewhat the same direction.

"I don't know what that means," Norah informed her.

"Ask Marshall tonight."

"Okay, I will," she agreed with a nod, not about to be deterred.

Mary knew she was going to have to get a move on if she was actually going to do this, because Max was likely to start fussing if she kept him curtained too long. A bowl could only entertain for so much time. Pinching a thick strand between her fingers and feeling increasingly foolish, his aunt tried talking to him to keep his focus.

"Okay Max…guess your days of being the moppet are about to end…" eyes locked on the clump she'd secured, Mary snipped.

Norah's eyes fluttered to the ground where the stray hairs fell, swirling and spinning to the floor. Mary didn't spare her a look, because her heart had begun to thud seeing what a sight her nephew was now. A big tuft had been taken out of his bangs.

"Let me even you out here, man…" two more snips across the middle, and then two more spontaneous ones diagonally the other direction.

Against her will, Mary was stunned. Sure, it wasn't _quite_ straight where his waves refused to smooth against his forehead, but she'd been careful and he actually looked pretty good. Probably for the first time since he'd been born – at which time Mary had _not_ been present, not after Robyn – you _could_ see his eyes. She'd never noticed the pure, crystal clear shade of blue they were in his round chubby-cheeked face. He stared at her with this unbelievable sense of wonder and discovery, like he'd never seen anything like her in his life.

Pointing in his mesmerizing gaze, "Berry…"

"Imagine that," Mary laughed with her usual sarcasm. "Amazing what you can see when you get the rug out of your eyes," she wondered vaguely what Max might've known her by before now; scent, touch, rarely sight.

"His eyes are so pretty," Norah declared. "They look like Brandi's."

That they did; Mary was surprised by how observant she was.

"I'm gonna get the back straightened out, Max; give me another second…" Mary chattered at him, taking the scissors to his collar now.

The hind end was harder. His locks gathered at the back instead of growing wispy as they did in front, and Mary did not do as spectacular a job. She had to cut through several times in order to level the strands out, which caused her to edit her handiwork in front so it would match. By the end, it was a tiny bit short, but Max just blinked at her like he was politely amused by what she might be doing.

She was pleased when she finished, feeling strangely accomplished, but also couldn't help praising Max for being so quiet.

"You're such a good boy…" she kissed his forehead, now visible. "You have your cousin to thank for your new look…" she gestured indiscriminately.

"I _told_ you he'd look better," Norah declared arrogantly. "You can tell he's a people now."

"A person," Mary was forced to alter her speech. "But, yeah. I stand corrected, Bug. This was a pretty good idea."

"I know…" Norah was thrilled. "I have lots of them."

Mary laughed at her daughter's loss of humility but was unable to take her eyes off Max, who could not seem to stop staring at her. The look on his face was indescribable, one Mary had never really seen before.

There was so much awe there – a juvenile, who had been living in the dark for so long, had just had his existence opened to a whole new world of possibilities.

XXX

**A/N: Okay, so I know the whole haircut thing likely seems random and silly, but it serves a small purpose; I promise. Hopefully it is somewhat believable that Mary would actually do something like that. I just remember Mary McCormack talking about how she went 'pregnant crazy' right before she had Lillian and trying to entertain guests, and this little scenario popped into my head! But, like I say; it does have significance (albeit minimal.) **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm afraid I might disappoint with the haircut – it is important, but I did not write a Brandi reaction, so hopefully nobody was REALLY looking forward to it! ;)**

XXX

Marshall didn't return home from the office until Mary was putting Norah to bed that night, although this happened a lot. It also still managed to throw their schedule off, even when all of them should've been used to it. Mary had her on the counter, pulling one of her usual enormous T-shirts over her head, lugging her hair out from the collar, as it was always getting stuck.

"Bug, you've got knots…" Mary reflected, not wanting her to sleep on that and wake up with her strands tied practically in two.

Reaching for a stray brush across the sink, she took it to Norah's hair, yanking her way through the tangles. As expected, this prompted a lot of complaining; Mary didn't pull hard enough to hurt her, but she wasn't exactly gentle either.

"Ouch!" Norah jerked her head away. "I bet you hurt Max when you did his today!"

"If you'd brush it yourself this wouldn't happen," Mary couldn't resist pointing out. "And in case you hadn't noticed, _Max_ didn't make a peep."

Norah turned disgruntled with the reminder, but fortunately the door gave its telltale sign of being unlocked, meaning both of them were saved. Brandi had showed up hours before to grab Max and take he and Robyn home; they were ready for their time with Peter, which left Mary and Norah ready for their time with Marshall. Limited as it might be.

"Good evening ladies!" the man called; he sounded tired, but positive as ever. "I am sorry I am detained; but I had to punch that clock with the best of them."

Norah turned to her mother, hair swinging around her face like a sheet, "Detained?"

"Late," Mary reported in an undertone, deciding she'd done as much as she could on the locks for now. "Come on…" a moan as she lifted her daughter down for the second time that day. "Say hello and goodnight."

Norah didn't need to be asked twice and fell the rest of the way out of Mary's grip, pushing herself off the ground with reflexes like a cat in time to rush to Marshall. Her blond hair fanned out behind her like a long and shimmering flag, huge T-shirt swishing side-to-side as she pumped her little legs.

"Marshall, guess what?" she posed once he'd smiled broadly and swung her up into his arms.

"I couldn't begin to guess," the man shook his head, carrying her back to the kitchen. "You will have to take pity on me this time, champ," a sigh. "It has been a long day."

Norah wrinkled her nose, distracted, "Longer than mine?"

Marshall laughed appropriately, "It is simply an expression. Every day is twenty-four hours, no more, no less. But I would bet you that mine felt a lot longer. What do you say?" he put some bounce in his arms as he asked.

"I guess," Norah shrugged. "But, anyway. Mommy cut Max's hair."

Mary attempted to look sheepish as Marshall flashed her quite a look – something between impressed and amused, raising his eyebrows boyishly. He shouldn't make such faces with Norah around. With the way her hormones were firing these days, it was all she could do to keep herself off him.

"Did she now?" he finally wondered aloud. "She do a good job?"

"Brandi _loved_ it!" Norah declared. "And I got to tell her it was all my idea. Robyn felt kind of bad though; she wanted to cut it herself."

"Well, I can't imagine how that would've gone," Marshall found himself saying, approaching Mary and bending to kiss her quickly.

To fulfill her current desire as virtuously as she could, Mary pulled him in at the neck and kissed him a little more deeply. She soaked him in during that millisecond she was able to lose herself in his touch; the softness of his lips on hers, the coarse hair growing on the back of his neck. It was worth every miniscule moment there was.

Fortunately, Norah was used to such affections and didn't even giggle, but kept right on talking.

"After she cut his hair, we went outside and mom threw tennis balls for me to hit," she went on. "She said it was good for Max to practice his coord…coordin…" she was unable to remember the word, but Mary was fast in helping her out.

"Coordination," she supplied. "It teaches him how to catch and throw so he can be the hitter you are someday," she poked a finger in Norah's belly, just barely peeking out with the gap between Marshall's arms.

"And what else did you do?" Marshall asked, never one to miss out on the full report no matter how exhausted he might be.

"Mmm…" Norah thought hard. "I talked to daddy when Max was taking a nap. He said he would take me and Robyn to the water park this weekend…"

"Oh, you'll love that," Marshall was agreeable. "You're becoming quite the fish these days."

"Yeah…" Norah seemed a little uncertain, looking down and then from Mary to Marshall and back again. "But…" she seemed to think it was all right with just the three of them. "What if I wanted to go with just dad by myself?" she asked. "Does Robyn have to go too?"

Mary was not at all surprised to hear her say this; she and Robyn got along as well as any other cousins so close to the same age, but Norah could be so fiercely independent when she wanted that she often didn't need the companionship.

"It can be just the two of you," Mary was quick to allow this, but it was Marshall who put the stipulation on.

"But, you should probably just keep it between you and your dad if you're not going to invite her," he schooled. "Because it might hurt her feelings if she found out."

Norah shrugged, "I didn't know Robyn could get her feelings hurt."

Mary laughed, but Marshall remained serious.

"Everybody can sometimes," he promised. "Even the most confident like our Robyn."

With that, Marshall was able to segue quite neatly into carting Norah off to bed; able to keep her talking so she did not engage in a battle of wills over slipping beneath the covers. After having been up the night before, both he and her mother imagined she was tired somewhere underneath, even if she couldn't recognize it.

Mary used the opportunity to dump the dinner dishes in the sink, tossing some of Norah's stray toys into the box in the living room. A lot of them weren't hers; belonging to either Robyn or Max and Mary wondered in the back of her mind how many new things the currently unborn would need when the time came. He or she had enough hand-me-downs to last a lifetime.

Marshall returned within ten minutes, as he was so skilled at getting Norah to crash in record time. Mary often marveled at him; a full day at work and then straight to parenting. Like a phenom.

She was at the island still putting things away when he snuck up behind her, a little startled to feel his hands weave around her waist and find the bump. Then again, it wasn't exactly hard to spot these days. She swore she was ballooning even faster than when she'd been pregnant with Norah, and evidently Marshall had noticed.

"Hmm…" he hummed pleasantly, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You're getting big again."

"Thanks for the reminder," she groused, teasing just a little. "I'll have reached killer whale status by nine months. Watch."

Marshall's hands just roved over the round, feeling the same thing that Mary felt twitching on the inside; floating and movement back and forth.

"He's tumbling tonight," the man observed. "Gotta love the active ones."

"So, you're with Norah on that then?" Mary slipped away, still a tiny bit self-conscious about her belly being touched. Turning around to face him, "On that whole 'he' thing?"

A nonchalant shrug, "Fifty-fifty chance. But, my money might be on it. Has Robyn swayed you the other direction?"

Mary just shook her head, a smile playing around her lips, choosing to neither confirm nor deny any inklings she might have. There wasn't any point in guessing and she'd had no desire to find out. In any case, the playful smirk as she looked up into Marshall's face was enough to keep her mind otherwise occupied.

"Hey…" he began upon seeing she wasn't going to bite on his question. "You got a second to talk? I mean, if you're tired…"

"No," Mary shook her head again, not wanting to be looked upon that way, suddenly remembering he had-had a topic of discussion earlier. "I'm good. Did you have dinner?" she went to the cupboard to try and find something, but he stopped her with a raise of his hand.

"Delia brought Chinese up. I am full to the brim," he decided, sounding cornier than ever.

"Okay…" Mary kind of wished she had something to do with her hands, becoming a little uncomfortable without knowing what he was going to say. "Then what's up?" she settled herself leaning against the island and waited, he on the counter across from her.

"Well…" Marshall was pretty good at not beating around the bush, and he had an odd sort of grin on his face. "Norah mentioned something interesting to me last night after her octopus-extravaganza, courtesy of Princess Robyn."

Mary had to wade through that sentence, but managed to find the crux, "Uh-huh," was her only response, wanting him to get on with this.

He straightened himself, slinking over to her and still looking strangely secretive. It was starting to make her nervous.

"She mentioned you and I…" he was awfully close now, possibly trying to be romantic. "And the likelihood we are going to get married sometime in this century."

Shit. Mary had thought he'd been throwing her for a loop, and he absolutely was. Her mind began to buzz, her fingers beginning to tingle, heart thudding and rattling around in her ribcage. Such a prompt was like the flu coming on, but it was all internal; she was an expert at keeping it off her face. Nonetheless, the need to bolt, to run away was programmed. She'd yet to turn the switch in the other direction.

They were happy. They were happy like _this_. What was the point of risking ruining it? Ruining everything.

"On second thought, maybe I am tired," she started light, but her voice sounded funny.

He was sympathetic at first, "Mary."

"No, Marshall, come on…" she flipped right over, ready to block and slid around his body so they were no longer eye-to-eye. "Not tonight."

"Okay then, when?" he pressed with a sort of healthy urgency, turning and trying to meet her but all he met was her back.

"I don't know…" she was riling, not having expected this at all. Sparing him a steely glance, "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Of course it does," now Marshall sounded a little exasperated. "Why do you think I'm asking?"

"I really don't know!" emphatic without yelling, truly not up for this. "We can't do this right now; we have too much else going on…"

"It would seem to me that we always have too much going on," Marshall rationalized. "And, I hate to break it to you, but we always will. I think you know that. The 'right time' is never going to present itself; we just need to jump in with both feet on this one…"

He couldn't have picked a worse phrase to use, short of 'fall off the cliff.' Mary didn't know why she was like this; why the ability to fully commit could not overwhelm her. She'd told herself these five years together – simply together – had been enough. They needed nothing else.

All she knew was that marriage, in her experience, spoiled everything. Jinx and James, her and Mark, Marshall and Abigail, even Raph.

Everything.

"Why is this so important to you?" she spat a little more harshly than she meant to.

And, visibly, he was hurt, "It's not important to you?"

"Marshall, come on…" she said for the second time, gesturing emphatically at absolutely nothing. "Don't be a douche, okay? You're important to me. _Norah_ is important to me. This baby…" she felt her throat closing up and couldn't finish, hoping he could glean the rest on his own. "Just, never mind…"

A few of Norah's things were still crowding the sink under the window and she busied herself walking over to pick them up. She gathered slowly, knowing Marshall was going to attempt to placate her and make her see sense. She didn't want to and likely wouldn't, but she owed him the opportunity.

Her eyes were still boring into the granite countertop, a tennis ball in her right eye, when his hand tickled along her ear, pushing the hair back as to see her face. She wouldn't look at him. He was close enough she could hear him breathing.

"Mare, you're going to give birth to my child…" always philosophic. "I want us – the three of us, the four of us – to be official. You understand that, don't you?"

She shook her head, shuffling the toys, "Maybe by Thanksgiving."

To the naked eye, it would seem she was setting something in stone, but Marshall knew better. He'd heard them all – after school starts, when work slows down, maybe in the summer, when everyone's home at Christmas. But, the years had passed on without a wedding; he always allowed Mary's well-timed wrenches to throw their way in. This was no different.

"Yeah, you're due at Thanksgiving," he said tightly.

"I know that."

"And…you're going to want to put on a wedding with a six-year-old and a newborn?"

Not especially. That was the point.

"Just…" she sighed, but Marshall pulled fast to reel her in.

"Mary, look at me."

His voice was still and direct, very tough to argue with. And so, she wouldn't argue. She would run. She was good at running. Not away, not out-of-town, not off the face of the earth. From commitment. From the possibility of being hurt.

"I need to say goodnight to Norah…"she pushed past him rather roughly, making him stagger when she brushed against him.

A coward. She knew that was what she was. And yet, she didn't care.

"Mary…" he was disappointed, and it was this that made Mary look at him one last time.

She was on the outside of the counter now, nearly halfway down the hall. He was right where she'd left him, sad and dissatisfied, hardly daring to believe that, once again, he'd failed to get through to her. His blue eyes were swimming with lost and forgotten hope.

"I _really_ need to say goodnight to Norah."

She was relentless.

An exhale from Marshall, "I would like to discuss this like adults."

"I'm tired," Mary almost cut him off. "I really am. I told you that. After I say goodnight, I'm going to bed."

And without giving him a chance to respond, she left him standing there, confused and disillusioned, the father of her child. The man she couldn't stand to lose; the man she was afraid to marry.

XXX

**A/N: Oh, Mary-Mary! It begins! ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to those who continue to review; this one's a bit short.**

XXX

Mary had the dream that night. The dream she'd known for some time now was her conscience talking when it came to all things Marshall and marriage. It followed her like a shadow, like a terrible rash, like a swarm of bees; no matter how far she ran, how she tried to shut down, she couldn't get away from it. She'd go for weeks, sometimes months at a time without letting it penetrate but, inevitably, it would sneak in again. The very definition of haunting.

The real question was how badly she let it affect her.

"_We never did get to take that trip…"_

"_Okay…" she wept. "It's okay, daddy. I'm here with you now, okay...?"_

"_That trip…"_

"_I'm not going anywhere…"_

It flashed in her mind's-eye over and over like a horror film; the closest to a nightmare you could get.

_Her hands were bloodied and stained. James' eyes were sliding shut. Don't go. Don't leave. Don't go._

Mary hated herself for the way she awoke; the way she jerked and accidentally kicked Marshall. She didn't spring up; for that, she was grateful. But, she didn't have enough of her wits about her to quit breathing so hard. It was like someone had been suffocating her minutes before and she'd just only wrenched free. Each gasp was surging life back into her veins.

She also knew she was sweaty and shivery, something else she was angry about. But the combination of things, not to mention the whack to his leg, made Marshall stir as well. He'd been soft the night before, but now he was insistent, elbowing up to look at Mary flat on her back.

"Are you okay?" he didn't even bother to whisper, so adamant he was to get to the bottom of things. "What's wrong?"

Mary swallowed. Once at first, and then twice. She was here. She was here in bed with Marshall. James was gone. Five years gone. He was not dying in her arms again.

Another gulp, "I'm fine," she was hoarse and attempted to sound more self-assured. Blinking, "I'm…I'm okay."

The way Marshall towered over her in the darkness was imposing in some way, the way he studied her with his eyebrows hunched and searching. He wasn't going away. He never did.

"What happened?" he kept his tone even, not nearly as tender as the evening prior when she'd been sick; he was in fix-it mode.

"Nothing…" Mary did whisper this time, wishing he would quit staring. "I told you I'm fine."

But, Marshall remained unconvinced and placed a hand on her shoulder, for what she wasn't entirely sure. And yet, it appeared this was the only analysis he needed to make, because he slipped back down by her side, shaking his head.

"Okay, you're not fine; you're shaking…" he observed, running his fingers over her forehead to look into her eyes. She really wanted to move off her back now, but he wasn't through talking, "Are you going to get sick again?"

"No…" Mary was fairly certain on that, using the opportunity to shift onto her side. The move made her realize she was indeed still trembling; she definitely felt sick even though she knew she wasn't, not this time. "No; it was just a dumb dream. I swear, Marshall, honest, go back to sleep…" she managed to rattle off on a dry throat.

Again, he wasn't fooled, "The same dumb dream you've been having since James died?"

Mary exhaled loudly, hoping she would convey just how annoyed she was with his hovering, his inability to let things go. On some level, she enjoyed it, but on another she didn't want him to think he'd caused this ridiculous episode with his talk of marriage earlier.

"What a detective you are, chief…" she mused, dripping with sarcasm. "Ever think about taking that as a side job?"

But Marshall took the admission kindly, just glad Mary had owned up to whatever she'd seen. He was used to it at this point whenever it presented itself. After all, he'd been there too. He'd stood aside while she cradled James, cried and tarnished her skin with his blood, listened to him try to apologize for all the grief he'd caused her. He rarely made her discuss it, but now seemed an opportune moment.

Inching close to her, he laid one of his long arms around her sprawled-sideways form, his elbow nudging into her belly. Their eyes met each other's now, hers uncharacteristically wild, his deep and worried.

"Mary, you can't do this to yourself," he allowed his tone to fall this time to something more understanding. "Don't let yourself get wound this tightly. Honestly, you can't…"

"Marshall…" she wanted to stop him, just wanted to forget this.

"The baby, Mary," he interrupted sharply. "I think we are close enough now that I can get away with saying this less than delicately, but you are not exactly young."

"Think again…"

"You are high risk by default and you have three months to go. Learn to relax," he commanded. And then, "Please."

But, Mary really didn't know how to help this. She _did_ somewhere deep down, but surely there was another way to fight it short of giving into Marshall and marriage for the long-haul. She could block it out if she really tried. She just forgot sometimes; forgot that it was like ghosts and spirits and the darkest phantom. It forced its way in at the exact moment she turned away.

"I just…" she whispered, suddenly liking how close they were pressed together. "I just need to go back to sleep. I'm…spent."

She decided not to mention all the anxiety was making her stomach cramp up, something else she was used to. She really was not fit to be pregnant. Nonetheless, Marshall accepted her request and leaned forward ever-so-slightly and kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight," he murmured sweetly.

Just like that? He was done? His urgency had washed away so quickly in favor of her pushing him back. It felt oddly like back when they'd been partners, before they'd been together. One inch of leeway and Marshall was satisfied. The tiniest bit of acceptance from Mary, and he could live on it for days – maybe weeks or months. And, for what?

"Marshall…" surely she could give a little; she wouldn't be able to doze off now anyway, despite what she'd said. "I…"

He was listening, eyes more probing than troubled now. They were so close; close enough their chests almost didn't touch with her protruding stomach below. But, he had pulled her in and wrapped her in his arms. Probably so she'd stop shaking.

"I'm…" it was all she could get out, really not knowing where to go. She wanted to apologize for earlier, but thought that might sound like she was changing her mind and she wasn't.

But, Marshall had always been skilled at reading her mind, "Tomorrow. In the morning. If you need to sleep, then you need to sleep."

Foolishly, Mary had the thought that she could use one of those specialty pep-talks Marshall gave Norah when she had bad dreams. He'd tell her to think of something calm and relaxing; something pleasant. It was problematic not knowing what those things might be.

But, she knew some sort of 'I'm sorry' would help at least part of her guilty conscience; wording it was the hard part.

"I'm…" that ridiculous word again. "I…shouldn't have yelled at you. Before."

Marshall sighed, squeezing her back with his long fingers, "There's another time for this. Right now, I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?"

Not okay, "But Marshall, I don't mean to…" she didn't know where that was going and tried a different route. "I'm just not…" that didn't work either. And then, "Why would Norah…?"

Ah. Her muddled brain was finally getting with the program, finding the question she was actually intending to ask.

"Norah…" her voice was hushed now, like wind or feathers in the dark. "Why would she ask you about that?"

Mary didn't really want to say the word, but fortunately Marshall was able to figure out where she was headed. If he forced them any closer together, Mary thought she might combust at the waist. And yet, some sick part of her was enjoying the force even if it hurt.

"Mare, I wouldn't want you to think I'm pressuring her; trying to make her think…"

"Marshall, I don't think that," she was quick to correct him; the conversation was helping to settle her nerves.

"Well, good…" he seemed bolstered by her conviction. "Because, she asked me – brought it up pretty much out of thin air. I'm not sure how long it's been on her mind," he continued. "I think she's happy either way, but talk of a wedding's been a part of her life for a long time. It could be pure curiosity."

Or it might not be. Marshall remembered Norah fretting about Mary's isolating herself, the way she joked about not having any friends, and the idea that she was going to be tied to Marshall someday would help all that. She was only six; lots of things swam on the surface in her world. She didn't have the ability to see much deeper, but as far as Marshall was concerned, this was as deep as she got.

"Maybe…" Mary responded to his explanation. "I mean, she's not Robyn. She's not those little girls that dream of white and three-tier-cakes and a plastic bride and groom," she rationalized quietly. "She has a mother and a father and…you," she added as an afterthought, not meaning to make it sound like one. "I kind of figured she was good with that. I am."

Marshall decided to placate her, thinking they'd been awake long enough now, "Maybe she is."

Which was code for 'Mary is.' But, Marshall was not. And he didn't think for a second that this discussion was going to get them very far. Mary was reasoning her way through it, coming up with innocent reasons why being companions with children was good enough. He worried there was no convincing her there was more out there; to be officially bound together forever.

And it turned out he was right because she went on, "Marshall, I just don't think that we…"

"Tomorrow," he interrupted, not willing to let himself get shut down again. "Another time. You need your rest and I do too if I am going to be functioning properly for Delia and Charlie tomorrow."

Mary was never one to say no to avoidance, and so she accepted his halt and loosened herself slightly from his grip on her rounded form. She was aching and sore in several places; from Marshall, she doubted. From something much stronger.

"Night…" she whispered, and shut her eyes to allow the sleep to take her away.

But, even as much as Marshall wanted to go under and forget everything he was trying to make come true, he knew lying in the dark for hours was a very big possibility tonight.

XXX

**A/N: Hope you all are enjoying. XOXO. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to those who are hanging with me! Enjoy the next part!**

XXX

Mary was faced with a quiet day come morning, as Norah was with Mark, Marshall was at work, and Brandi had the day off to spend with the kids. Sometimes, on days such as this, she went to the office and hassled Marshall about stepping in on a few cases. Her stay-at-home mom status irked her more than she cared to admit, and her chief often let her resume her old post with discretion.

But today, she was too apprehensive about the conversation they had _not_ had to venture that direction. She wasn't feeling a hundred percent either; she was queasy and her back ached from trying to get comfortable for most of the night. She didn't need Marshall being a helicopter adding to her problems.

And so, she did something she'd done only once before. She went down to the studio to see Jinx. Part of her thought she was insane, but another knew that if anybody could make her feel better about dancing around an issue, it was Jinx. She was an expert on indecision, and made Mary's waffling seem trivial. Plus, she thought getting up and around would help her back stretch itself out.

She went around lunchtime in hopes that her mother would be on break, only to find as she approached the glass front that she was still teaching. A group of about eight girls, anywhere from five to seven, were pirouetting and flouncing around at her elbows. They reminded Mary of ducks flocking toward their mother; they stretched onto their tiptoes, Jinx prancing around and correcting politely. Her hair was up on top of her head, falling in wisps down her neck from the heat outdoors. The little girls were startlingly attentive, so eager to please. Even more shocking was her mother's apparent patience.

Mary contented herself with simply watching momentarily, leaning on the glass, which was pleasantly cool on her warm cheeks. She rarely got the opportunity to see Jinx in action. Until now, she hadn't really considered it an opportunity.

But, her spectator view didn't last long, because the minute her mother looked out to the street beyond, she saw Mary standing there. She was plainly surprised, but also unashamedly delighted and beckoned her in with a hand, little girls turning around at the gesture. Mary was faintly embarrassed, but figured she might as well go in now that she was here.

The door jingled when Mary walked through it, and the linoleum was shiny under her boots; she could see her face in it. This was mostly because she was trying to avoid the stares of the children, but Jinx wasn't about to let that happen.

"Mary honey!" she exclaimed, doing a strange sort of goose-step across the room to greet her. "I didn't know you'd be dropping by!"

This was a given, considering the only time Mary had come down to the studio was when her and Raph had broken up. In the back of her mind, she didn't enjoy the symbolism considering what was going on with Marshall.

But Jinx acted as though she hadn't seen her in years, "I'm so glad you're here; you get meet the girls…" a quick sideways hug, humiliating Mary even further.

"No, mom…" she whispered as quietly as she could. "It's okay; I-I didn't know you'd be teaching, I can come back…"

"No-no!" Jinx proclaimed, not hearing of it. "Stay; stay a minute! Girls…" she addressed the group at large.

They were huddled together now like sardines, like a pack of wide-eyed mice glued together at their hips. They looked remarkably similar in their tutus of blue and pink; only their different colored locks set them apart; some in buns, some in pigtails.

In a commanding voice Mary had never heard before in her life, "Girls, look here; let me see your eyes…" a few of them were whispering, but snapped to attention at once, stunning Mary profusely. "Very good. This is my daughter Mary…"

She smiled broadly, making Mary stiffen when she put an arm around her. She smiled sheepishly, but didn't like the way they were all staring. She hadn't expected this.

"I've told you about her before, do any of you remember?" it was like she was quizzing them with the authority in her voice.

"Robyn's mommy?" a little brunette with freckles whispered.

"No, this is Robyn's mommy's sister," Jinx corrected, but Mary would be surprised if any of them gleaned this. "She's Norah's mom. Phoebe, you know Norah don't you?" she posed to a blonde with a bob cut.

A nod from this Phoebe, "Uh-huh."

But before further introductions could be made, a brash and brazen little one with her hair in braids jumped apart from the group, pointing her finger eagerly at the mother-daughter pair.

"_You're_ having a baby!" she exclaimed, and Mary's face went so red she wouldn't have been surprised if there were hot coals rolling across her cheeks. "I can tell, because my mommy's having a baby too!"

There was no time for Mary to respond, because this prompted further discussion among the rest of the group; they latched on at once, chattering so quickly back and forth it was like a ping-pong match.

"Are you having a boy or a girl?"

"When will it come?"

"It's not coming today is it?"

"_Your_ mom isn't having a baby; I didn't see anything!"

"I bet I can feel the baby."

"Yeah, me too – let me see!"

Christ. It was a room full of Robyn's – their wild eyes, their even wilder hair, their diva personalities. How did Jinx keep them all in check? Mary had enough trouble with Norah and Robyn, not to mention Max, and Norah wasn't anything like this. How would she do with another?

Distinctly uncomfortable now, Mary tried to bid a hasty retreat before things could get any further, and whispered firmly in Jinx's ear.

"Mom, I'm gonna go; I'll call you tonight, okay?"

Fortunately, Jinx was discrete on some level, "Angel, come now; don't be silly…" she was also patronizing. "They're children; they can't hurt you. I would think you'd be used to it by now."

Well, she wasn't. Not with her tomboy daughter, and the rolling in her stomach to go along with Marshall's pressuring. She felt so raw standing in front of them, but she was glad Jinx was going to come to the rescue if she was going to be made to stick around.

"Girls…girls, settle down…" her mother's hands fluttered about as she walked toward all the young ladies, trying to disperse them and regain their focus. "Let's take a little break, okay?" she suggested. "Why don't you go over to the bar by the mirror and practice?" she indicated the reflector across the room, a typical ballerina shaft mounted into the wall. "I want to see your positions when I get back!"

Without a word, the little cluster migrated for the best spots in front of the mirror, some of them grabbing hands to race together. Mary still wanted to leave, wondering where on earth she'd ever gotten this idea, but Jinx was already beckoning her into one of two small rooms at the back of the studio. Both were unmistakably offices, one dark with the door shut, but the other was open. It contained a file cabinet, a desk, and racks of clothes hanging in front of a tiny window looking out on the floor.

Reluctantly, Mary followed. Jinx had already gone to the desk and was downing a bottle of water before she was able to speak.

"So, sweetheart…" she was more cheerful than usual. "It's so lovely to see you – such a nice surprise. I hope everything's okay…" there was a little bit of a question on the end, but Jinx didn't lose her sugar-sweet smile.

"No…mom, everything's fine," Mary assured her. "Honestly, I thought you'd be on lunch; I wasn't trying to interrupt…"

She really wished she hadn't; she hadn't anticipated this feeling of awkwardness stealing over her.

"Oh, don't worry about it…" Jinx waved a casual hand, stepping around the desk to stand in front of her daughter. "The girls like a little free time; they've been all wound up with school about to start."

Mary didn't know what made her say what came out of her mouth next, just that she'd been faced with her own inadequacies and she couldn't help noticing her mother's strengths in this particular moment.

"You're really…" she swallowed, not skilled at giving compliments. "You're really good with them, mom. They even listen to you."

"Oh, well sometimes…" Jinx was modest with a light chuckle, glancing fondly through the window. "I do what I can."

Mary didn't know why it surprised her, as Jinx certainly adored both Norah and Robyn and pleased both with her spoiling-grandmotherly ways. Mary knew she had a little more fun with Robyn, as they were more alike in terms of femininity, but she treated Norah no differently. Sometimes, she wondered why her mother hadn't had such a trait when her and Brandi were growing up, but knew she was trying to make up for it now.

"Well…" the older woman sighed when Mary didn't say anything else. "What brings you by honey?" again with the term of endearment. "You need something?"

She wished Jinx hadn't used that word. Neediness of any kind didn't sit well with her, and she was regretting her spontaneous decision to come down almost instantly. Her back still hurt; the trek hadn't helped that or her ever-changing insides.

"No…" she found herself saying. "Honestly mom; I was just in the neighborhood. You're teaching…" she backtracked so quickly. "I should go."

"Mary," Jinx laughed good-naturedly, gripping her arm so she couldn't run. "I told you its okay. You're allowed to need something, sweetheart. What is it?"

Nothing. Nothing she really wanted to talk about, anyway. What was to discuss? She was withholding from Marshall; she refused to marry him. There wasn't anything Jinx could do about that. She was an expert at being stubborn, and she was banking on Marshall just letting everything go if she kept quiet long enough. Telling Jinx would only escalate the situation.

Jinx prompted further without an answer, "You look well…"

"I look like a hippo…" Mary scoffed.

Jinx blew through that, "How have you been feeling? You're not still getting sick, are you?"

Yes. She almost felt disappointed when she thought of telling Jinx that, as she hadn't seen her mother for about a week, and she wouldn't know.

"I'm okay, mom. Just tired, mostly…"

"Well, why don't we have dinner tonight?" Jinx suggested on the spot. "Peter's back from Hartford, so Brandi will be busy and Mark's with Norah, right?"

"Right…" Mary sighed, not wanting to agree, but finding she was against her will.

"I'll come to the house and fix you something," she decided.

Mary still wasn't much for being doted upon, but the gesture was nice on some level. Her mother was making the attempt, which was not something she used to do. She also knew Marshall would likely be staying late at the office, and she got restless without company these days, used to having so many kids around.

A little nervously, but resolute, Mary nodded, "Okay."

Jinx smiled widely; pleased she'd had success with her prickly eldest daughter. Fortunately, there was no time to hash it out because one of the students came racing up to the door, swinging in its frame and calling out dramatically.

"Miss Jinx, Miss Jinx! Chloe's hogging the good spot in the mirror! I can't see!"

Mary's head spun at the salutation as her mother got down to business fixing the problem. _Miss Jinx?_

She was spared a goodbye before duty presented itself again, "I'll come by about six, angel!" a distracted wave over her shoulder.

"Thanks mom…" Mary found herself saying, but she was already gone; back to work.

Mary felt bizarrely alone in the tiny office after that; she hadn't even known Jinx had an office, didn't know she was established enough to have earned it. There were so many things she didn't know. The file cabinet and clothes strewn about, on the floor as well as on the rack by the window, made it seem like the typical workspace. However, when Mary stepped around to the back of the desk, she saw the personality that had been added.

Frames adorned the top; sterling silver and shining in the harsh fluorescent light. Robyn and Norah in matching French braids sitting on Mary's front porch, looking the part of twins. Max's newborn picture with a more recent one tucked in the corner of the same frame, flyaway like it could slip loose at any moment. Brandi and Peter on their real wedding day, even one of Brandi and Jinx in the same moment. There was one of Marshall holding Max high above his head, his mouth in a wide and gaping smile; cheeks flushed with delight. And there were Mary and Norah; her daughter tucked in her arm on the couch at home, heads side-by-side, a soft and understated smile playing on her face.

Looking at all those delightful, joyous faces, Mary couldn't help feeling touched that Jinx was this proud of them all. And at the same time, couldn't help wondering if there would ever come a day when she believed the lives being lived in those photos belonged to her.

XXX

**A/N: I like to get some Jinx in. Her character really grew on me as the show progressed, and I have always felt that Mary, despite what she says, often longs for her mother because she longs for a parent. It's something she feels she was denied as a child and when things got hard on the show, she usually went running to Jinx because underneath she does want to be taken care of. I was always glad Jinx got herself cleaned up there toward the end.**

**Would love a review if you've got a minute! XOXO.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This one is a bit longer – and hopefully brings things to light in a subtle but nonetheless clear way.**

XXX

Mary was asleep when Jinx came to the house, not something she'd planned. Marshall had left her paperwork to fill out as promised, and she'd parked herself in front of the television to get it done. But, her inability to get a good night's sleep lately, the lull of the little buzzing box, the rhythmic scratch of the pencil; all of it was just begging for her to shut her eyes. She'd closed the forms up in a binder, tucked them in the alcove disguised as an office, and crashed almost at once sitting back down on the couch.

She didn't hear the key in the door, hadn't realized the sun had started to sink beneath the mountains in the distance beyond her window. But, she felt the fingers that trickled across her brow. Hoping it might be Marshall didn't mean Mary actually fooled herself into thinking it was. The fingers were too frail, the touch too tentative, like branches blown up and down in a strong breeze. They'd flicker across and down, unsure how much contact was necessary.

When Mary cared enough to open her eyes, she saw Jinx standing above her with a bag of takeout. So much for a home-cooked meal.

"Mom?" she said thickly, sounding sleepier than she meant to; surely she hadn't been under that long.

"Hi honey…" Jinx whispered kindly. "I brought you Chinese from that place you like downtown…" she held up the bag to demonstrate. "But, I can leave it. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Mary was not all together surprised at the suggestion, knowing most people didn't equate her and naps. And, years before she would've relished Jinx having enough intuition to know when she'd worn out her welcome. But, this time it was different. She'd been by herself most of the day, mulling Marshall's proposition and she hadn't gotten anywhere. Surely some sort of interaction could be good for her.

"I was just lying down for a second…" Mary insisted, no earthly idea if 'a second' had actually been 'an hour.' She elbowed up, hoisting herself to her feet before she continued, "You brought Chinese?" a brave attempt at wrinkling her nose, playing around. "What happened to 'I'll fix you something?'"

Jinx smiled lovingly, "As much as I would love to try, I can't help feeling my shaky cooking skills aren't best used to practice on my fourth grandchild…" she rubbed Mary's belly, which made her want to shift away but she managed to contain herself.

"You've come a long way, mom…" Mary said with just a hint of sarcasm, gesturing for her mother to join her in the kitchen. "So…what exactly constitutes 'Chinese?'" she asked curiously, unfurling the bag at the island to stick her head in.

Jinx bustled to her side, looking thrilled with the fact that she'd managed something so thoughtful. She too shoved her head in the bag, snatching boxes and containers before Mary could even get her paws on the grub.

"I got low Mein, fried rice, some of those eggrolls…" she deposited each on the counter as she said them. "Oh, and that egg drop soup you love…"

Mary had to bring that one to a halt before Jinx managed to pry the plastic off the top of the bowl, because barfing with her mother in the house was always an ordeal. Jinx made such a fuss, like she was about to go into cardiac arrest from a little vomiting.

"Don't…" her hand smacked over the top, shielding the contents from her nose. "No eggs – no eggs of any kind. I actually managed to get a salad down earlier; I'm not gonna take the risk puking something green."

"It's fine, honey…" Jinx chuckled. "I'll eat it, or I'll leave it in the fridge for Marshall."

"For Norah," Mary corrected, glad she was being taken seriously. "She loves egg drop soup. Seriously, they could make an egg drop milkshake and she'd suck it through a straw."

"Try not to diminish all of my appetite in two minutes, dear."

Her daughter grinned good-naturedly; it felt good to joke with her mother. She'd become much more skilled at going with the flow as the years had progressed, able to bat back at Mary with a little sarcasm of her own. Mary herself had longed for days like this before Jinx had gotten sober. It was nice that it was finally here – one part of her life she had actually gotten used to possessing.

"I didn't know you were bringing your appetite," Mary quipped at her mother's response. "I'd have left it at home if I were you, considering mine's seriously gonna overpower this spread you brought," she was already opening the bin of low Mein, busting open the wrap containing her plastic fork. "Better eat quick."

Jinx tweaked her cheek lovingly, "You never were much for sharing."

Mary busied herself scooping up noodles in order to avoid responding to her mother's affection, not wanting to become schmaltzy. Her nap must've pumped new life into her, because she was feeling oddly moved by Jinx coming by and keeping her company. It could also be her hormones going completely out-of-whack again. She couldn't decide which prospect irritated her less.

Nonetheless, the silence began to get a little overwhelming as Mary lowered herself onto the stool at the island and Jinx did the same, also spooning in noodles. So many things were racing through the younger's mind – not the least of which was her sensitive stomach, wondering how much it could handle. There was also Marshall, but her willingness to discuss his ideas with her mother wasn't strong. She took a different tack instead; hoping the quiet had persisted long enough it wouldn't seem strange.

"Mom…?"

"Hmm?" Jinx hummed around bites.

"Do you ever think about dad?"

Okay, it was a little blunt, but hopefully Jinx was used to that by now. She had known Mary her whole life and her sense of intuition had increased over the years.

As it was, she glanced upward, finished chewing, "Oh, I don't know…" she shrugged so casually Mary actually bought it. "Sometimes. Not as much as I used to."

Mary believed this as well. If nothing else, the words they exchanged about James had dwindled since he'd died. Even if he wasn't all together forgotten.

"Well…" the daughter was somewhat comfortable continuing, as her mother had been fairly nonchalant thus far. "When you do think about him…" she paused to make sure she'd swallowed. "What do you think about?"

Mary had certainly been more poetic in her life, but now wasn't the time to concern herself with fancy wording. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd pinned down James to talk about, but she hadn't really known what she'd planned on saying to Jinx down at the studio. And her father – the haunting nightmares, at least – surely had some weird connection to this situation with Marshall. She had no intention of going that deep, but scratching the surface seemed all right.

Fortunately, Jinx was fairly prompt in her answer, and certainly self-assured.

"How he was a bastard who was way more trouble than he was worth," she scoffed bitterly, fixing her eyes on her meal; stare cold and distant. "All the misery he put you girls through."

Now who was the blunt one?

Jinx stirred her rice and finished, "And that if it had been you or Brandi his minions had chosen to go after instead of Scott…" she looked up now, steadfast and more serious than Mary had ever seen. "He _still_ wouldn't be here to talk about it, I can promise you that."

Mary paused, fork falling slack in her fingers in the takeout container, which was nearly empty. Whatever she'd expected to hear from Jinx, it wasn't this. Maybe there was a reason they didn't talk about it; she'd had no idea her mother had developed such strong feelings after all these years. In some ways, it was startling, but in others it was a very weird comfort. She wasn't the only one who hadn't completely let go.

"Jesus, mom…" was still Mary's response after such a proclamation. "Anger issues, much?"

"I've had a lot of time to brood, sweetheart," Jinx resumed. "Him abandoning us was one thing, but the mess he created by coming back…" she shook her head in disbelief. "That reached a level of turmoil I didn't think even James was capable of."

Well, then her mother had certainly been fooling herself, Mary thought. They'd both idealized James in his absence, in one way or another no matter what they said. And death had also buried his transgressions; everything he'd done had come back to bite him, and he'd passed with a painful kind of tragedy, even though Mary knew it was nothing of the kind.

What she also knew, now that she'd gotten this reaction, was that she couldn't bring up the strange longing she still seemed to hold, somewhere deep down. She wouldn't be having bad dreams if not for it.

But Jinx got curious enough on her own, "Why do you ask?" she referred to the first inquiry.

Mary shrugged, attempting to seem as cool as her mother had, and shoveled in some more rice.

"No reason…" she decided flippantly. "Just had him on my mind…some…lately…" she trailed. "Not a lot or anything…" she wanted to be perfectly clear; not have her suspect a thing.

Jinx softened slightly and put down her fork, "Kiddo, there isn't anything wrong with that…" now she sounded guilty. "That's not what I was trying to tell you. I just hate what he did to you and Brandi – how he made you feel. But, you're going be a mother again, Mary…"

She _definitely_ diminished her harshness with this thought by bringing the baby into it. Anything having to do with her grandchildren had that effect on Jinx.

"I would think it's normal to think about your father," she concluded.

Mary wasn't sure this was true, wondering how James was woven into her confusion with Marshall. She wished he and she had never gone down that path. Talk of James just had her reinforcing what a disaster marriage could truly be.

"Think about him, maybe…" she conceded. "Build him up as some sort of hero, or…"

"Mary," Jinx interrupted seriously. "You know exactly who your father was; don't doubt that. But, angel…"

It was bizarre, having this conversation from across the island. Jinx seemed distant from her as her green eyes turned sympathetic and understanding.

"As well as he knew how to love anything or anybody, he loved you," she claimed suddenly. "For whatever you think that's worth."

Mary didn't know if it was worth anything. All James had done was convinced her that white picket fences, yellow daisies, and a house full of screaming, smiling, happy children, were unattainable goals. He'd shown her that no matter how hard she strived to be brave and to protect that at the end of the road it still might not be good enough. That this idealized version of her these men carried around in their heads – first James, now Marshall – was something she couldn't live up to.

Better to keep herself from disappointing another that way again.

"Are you sorry you married him?" Mary couldn't help asking brazenly.

Jinx looked a little startled, and also bewildered; Mary could see her thinking, contemplating such a question.

Eventually, there came a muddled response, "Well, I don't…" she stuttered, meal seemingly forgotten. "I don't really know…" she was forced to admit. "I don't really think of it that way. I mean, obviously honey; I would never trade my years with him because I wouldn't have you or your sister…"

This was to be expected, but that wasn't what Mary had asked. She could just as easily have said the same thing about her and Mark, because Norah had been the result. She wondered if she'd be saying the same thing about Marshall, because of this unborn little being they'd created.

"I certainly…getting mixed up with him was a huge mistake…" Jinx continued to scoff, but it was apparent she was becoming prickly and Mary was beginning to wish she hadn't asked; it wasn't going to be any help anyway.

"Forget it, mom…" she looked down, surprised to find her dinner was nearly gone and she suddenly felt uncomfortably full. "It was a stupid question. Never mind."

Jinx seemed a little sad she didn't have a better response, but at least she hadn't been able to glean the real reason why Mary was asking. Near as she could tell, Jinx was solidifying the idea that having kids didn't automatically foster some sort of obligatory, 'I do.' And Mary had already known that.

"I wish you had better memories of him, darling…" she ended up concluding rather lamely. "I just…"

But at that moment, Mary's cell started buzzing; a welcome relief from this horrible conversation she'd put into motion. Jinx jumped at the sound, but Mary was quick in retrieving the phone from across the counter. Looking at the time, she saw that it was inching toward eight o'clock, meaning Jinx had shown up later than she'd planned. Mary wasn't surprised to see the name on the display was Mark's, judging by the hour.

"Hey Mark…" she was almost too eager when answering and she wondered if he would pick up on that.

"It's me, mommy!"

Even better. Norah, anymore, was like water in the desert. She brought this healthy calm; this reassuring sense that there was still basic good in the world, at least for awhile. She eased Mary's heart as well as her mind, even at her most difficult. She'd never known before her daughter that a six-year-old could be so rewarding, have such an effortless skill to wash her troubles away. James mattered no more – at least not right now.

"Hey Bug…" she ate some more without remembering how full she'd already gotten. "It's about time for bed isn't it?"

"Yeah…" her little one conceded. "But, dad said I could call to say goodnight."

"Ah…" Mary mused around a mouthful of eggroll; this was not an unusual practice. "What'd you guys do today?"

"He took me to the movies because it was so-so hot out…" Norah reported. "He let me get one of those, um…" she chattered on several 'um's' in her desire to recall. "Um…one of those like…frozen drink things…"

"A slushie?" Mary guessed. "The Coke kind?"

"Yeah, I think that's it!" Norah proclaimed. "And a _big_ popcorn! He didn't even eat that much of it himself; I got to eat _all_ of it!"

Mary smiled softly at how well her daughter knew her. She always wanted to hear about the food, not whatever cheesy animated flick Mark was willing to sit through. Movie-going tended to be his job.

"You didn't puke, did you?" Mary couldn't resist asking; hoping to hear her daughter giggle and she definitely earned the desired sound.

Norah laughed, "No! _You're_ the one who would've thrown up, not me!"

"Only too true," Mary snarked. "Sounds like you had a good time. You do anything else?"

"Not really," she replied. "After it wasn't that hot anymore…" she meant when the sun had started to go down. "Daddy let me draw on his driveway with chalk."

"What did you draw?" Mary asked, knowing such an activity usually took place at either Mark's or Brandi's, still shoveling in food, watching Jinx grin fondly across from her.

"Mmm…" Norah considered. "A rocket and a baseball and I wrote my name and I added just a couple hearts, just in case Robyn sees it…"

"Sounds like you've been busy," Mary remarked. "You sleep well, okay love?"

More adoring smiles from Jinx; Mary wasn't much for the sappiness, never liking an audience during conversations like these.

"Uh-huh…" Norah muttered distractedly. "Is Marshall there? Can I say goodnight to him too?"

"Sorry N…" Mary was forced to disappoint. "He's working late. We'll both see you tomorrow though, all right?"

The tiniest of sighs came through the phone, "All right. Dad wants to talk to you before I hang up."

"Fine," Mary wondered what this was about, but sometimes it was just courtesy on her ex's part. "Night Bug. I love you."

"I love you more, mommy."

Forever the competitor, Mary thought, as she heard the cell dropped with a little bit of a thud, her daughter's sense of 'put it down gently' a little skewed. While she waited for Mark to come on the line, Jinx got up and started tossing boxes and leftover food in the garbage under the sink. Mary drummed her fingers absently, wondering what was keeping the man, when his voice finally floated through.

"Hey Mare; how you doing?"

"Good…" she chewed her thumbnail. "You need something?"

"Just checking," Mark answered swiftly. "I've got a meeting at eleven tomorrow, so I'll drop Norah back by the house around ten-thirty?"

"Yeah, sure…" Mary agreed. "And then you've got her again on Friday," it was Wednesday.

"Yup," he said shortly, good-natured as always. "I've been thinking, too…"

"Always a terrifying phrase coming out of your mouth," Mary teased in an undertone, but Mark was good at ignoring her anymore.

"At the end of the month when school starts, we should maybe adjust our joint calendar a bit…"

"We always do that when school starts," she furrowed her brow despite Mark's being unable to see her, unsure where this was going. "You plan on selling solar panels across the Bahamas this fall and packing Norah up with UPS or something?"

"You think you're so funny," he sounded like he was grinning. "I just thought, with you due at Thanksgiving, if you needed a little extra help before then I'd be happy to do my part."

This certainly wasn't an offer Mary had been expecting, and found herself mulling it over while Jinx banged around in the cabinets behind her. Although she knew Mark was trying to assist in the nicest way possible, his mention of Thanksgiving also brought her back to her conversation with Marshall. So much seemed to hinge on that time of year; like if she didn't consent to a real discussion with Marshall there was no telling what would happen come turkey day. She was still managing to convince herself if she dodged enough, he'd give up. He wasn't going anywhere; he'd promised her that a long time ago.

Apparently, she'd been thinking too long, "Mare? Are you there?" Mark called. "This isn't supposed to be some…I don't know…'coddle the pregnant broad' thing," he clarified. "You're just gonna be busy, that's all."

"No, I know…" Mary shook her head trying to sound coherent. "I just, I don't…" it was getting a little overwhelming again; hot under the collar at the thought of an impending wedding, despite nobody else having a clue about that part of their lives. "I don't really know what's going to be…happening in November, is all…" she trailed off, unsure if her mouth might be getting ahead of her brain.

Mark definitely sounded perplexed, "Well, I would think getting the baby here would be the first job," he was trying to joke, but Mary didn't find it especially amusing.

"I just don't think we're going to be as busy as we'd thought," she finally landed on, although that really didn't make sense; she wished Jinx would beat it, because she could feel her watching from the sink. "Me and Marshall, I mean."

This was her way of making a decision about the bone she'd thrown Marshall, even if Mark didn't know that was what she was doing. By what she'd just told him, her own mind had already shot down the possibility of autumn nuptials.

Unfortunately, Mark was more confused than ever, "Uh…okay…" he finally managed awkwardly. "Are you all right?" he couldn't resist. "You sound…weird, all of a sudden."

"I'm fine…" she assured him, true or not. "And thank-you for offering, but…"

It was her to jump as the lock sounded in the front door, meaning the man himself was arriving home. Much to Mary's chagrin, Jinx noticed her spring up and put on a face of concern when her daughter turned long enough to see it. She shook her head to reassure her, anxious to get Mark off the phone before Marshall walked in. She just prayed Jinx would keep quiet about the end of the conversation she'd been privy to; there was no telling what Marshall might glean from it.

"I-I need to go," Mary fabricated. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She heard Mark's faint goodbye trickle away as she hung up, placing her cell on the counter. She had the distinct impression Jinx was going to pounce, but fortunately Marshall beat her to the punch with greetings.

"Well, hello…" he called, indicating Jinx with a nod of his head. "And here I thought I'd only get to see one of my usual two beautiful women tonight," he loosened the tie around his neck as he spoke.

Jinx went slightly pink, "Always charming…" she sang, flashing him a winning smile. "Did you get dinner, Marshall? I put leftovers in the fridge in case you're hungry."

"I may have to take you up on that," Marshall supplied kindly, joining them in the kitchen.

But Mary was feeling hot and agitated all over, wondering why she let herself get so worked up about the mere mention of tying the knot. She couldn't tell if it was the thought of a wedding that was making her feel sick, or the idea of how upset Marshall might be if she continued shutting him down like she wanted to. Regardless, her stomach was starting to knot up, instantly regretting the way she'd inhaled her dinner. She'd pay later. She always did.

Jinx's farewells were a distant hum in her buzzing ears, "Best be getting on for the night…" a fluttering wave. "You two enjoy…"

Marshall was already saying goodbyes, and Mary somehow managed one as well, although she wasn't sure how. It wasn't until the door had opened and shut once more than she registered how closely Marshall was studying her. It was plain that their conversation from the day before was not on his mind right now; he was just the regular working man, home after a long day.

"Hi…" he said, just a hint of uncertainty in his voice, probably from the blank look on Mary's from where she sat on the stool below him. "How's it going? You're awfully quiet."

Mary stared up at him, loving every line and sketch in his face as much as she had in the many years that had passed. He was gorgeous, inside and out. _This_, this life she lived right now, was gorgeous inside and out. It didn't have to change.

"I don't feel well…" she found herself admitting, weak-willed in an attempt to ward off a talking-to. "I ate too much."

Well, that part was true and Marshall was as compassionate as ever.

"I am sorry to hear that," he dictated, laying a light kiss on top of her hair; soft and tender as always. "Want to come watch some TV? Or we can just go back to the bedroom if you want to stretch out."

Either of those seemed fine, but what Mary really wanted was to hold him here, in this moment of space and time and never let him go. They were as perfect as it was possible to be just the way they were. And so, she wove her arms around his waist from where she was still seated, letting her head fall into his chest. He was warm; his hands were gentle as they ran up and down her back. She loved him dearly.

One day he was going to figure out that she was as bad as the image she used to project to everyone; she wasn't this wonderful changed woman he carried around in his heart. He'd find out she couldn't live up to his lofty expectations, just as James had.

"Mary, I'm so sorry you're sick," he whispered sweetly.

So was she. But not the way he was thinking.

XXX

**A/N: So, hopefully the story begins to speak for itself here – or Mary's thoughts do anyway. They're going to be reiterated on more than one occasion in my fervent wish that they make sense. I wanted to go for something different than the 'Mary won't commit because she's afraid of being hurt' scenario. I also didn't want her to fear 'not being good enough' for Marshall, which was basically what happened in the Sam stories, although this time it is more like that. **

**I don't want to spend a ton of time explaining because, like I said, hopefully the story tells itself well enough I don't have to (you never know though.) Long story short, Mary feels Marshall idealizes her; that the changed individual she's become isn't who she really is and that she will disappoint him, as she feels she disappointed her father. Her father also idealized her, something she thinks Marshall has done as well. Anyway, it continues on as the story progresses so I am really banking on it making sense throughout LOL!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank-you to those who are reviewing! It is much appreciated! Also, I don't own IPS and I don't own Disney (which is not referred to explicitly here, but nonetheless LOL!)**

XXX

A typical summer day with Norah turned into one of Mary's usual baby-sitting adventures when Brandi and Peter went to work the next afternoon. To keep the brood occupied, she shipped them off to the swimming pool. This meant she had to keep an eye on Max while the girls pretty much kept an eye on themselves, but Mary didn't mind. He was generally mellow and both Norah and Robyn had learned to swim very quickly the previous summer, meaning they were now interested in the diving board.

Still, Mary had strict rules when it came to the public pool. Even before she'd turned into some sort of human globe, she'd always refused to wear a bathing suit. She wasn't Brandi, who had paraded around in skimpy bikinis for most of her twenties. But now, there was no way she was going to be caught dead in anything that exposed her grotesquely enormous belly – at only six months, no less. She wore a tank-top, practically considered risqué without her usual blazer, and a pair of jeans, which she rolled up sitting in the shallow end with Max.

From her vantage point, she could still see Norah and Robyn across the pool at the diving board. Norah was much more interested in being silly as she came off, but Robyn wanted to perfect her swan leaps, not all together surprising.

"Here Max, give me that…" she directed her nephew, still marveling at his shorter locks and the way he persisted in looking at her with that deer-in-the-headlights gaze. "Give me your cup…" she indicated the glass Brandi had sent with him, which he liked to fill and dump back out where they sat on the steps.

He whined when she forced it out of his chubby, slippery fingers, moaning, "No-no! Give…!" he tried to swipe it, but Mary was too quick for him.

"Hang on…" his aunt was trying his patience. "Let me have a turn."

"No…!" he was not deterred, and so Mary would have to be quick if she didn't want a tantrum on her hands.

"Max, check this out…" she filled the cylinder just as he'd been doing, hoping to capture his attention once more. "Watch what else you can do…"

He quieted momentarily, swishing his little toes in the shallow water on the steps, focused halfway between this game and Mary's pestering. His swim trunks were bright green adorned with what Mary guessed were dinosaurs – in orange, no less, and so his color combination was quite glaring. But, it was obvious any child of two was more interested in his surroundings than the shade of his swimwear.

"You've gotta be roasting out here, my little moppet…" Mary assumed, taking one of his flailing hands in her own. "How's this feel?"

Thinking it was probably smarter to start with Max's fingers rather than, say, his head; she dumped her entire cup of water over his hand. He recoiled at first, whimpering a little pitifully, but then became curious. He craned his neck to look inside the glass, like he was confused about where the water had gone even though he'd been filling and spilling for the last hour.

"How did that feel, man?" she couldn't resist asking behind her sunglasses; his face masked in the smallest shadow.

Max considered and then, speaking a little more with the girls not present, "More."

"You're the boss," Mary informed him speedily. "Want to try getting your hair wet?"

This prompted a puzzled look, "Hair?" he inquired softly, and it came out sounding more like, 'air' without the initial 'h' sound.

"Where is your hair, Max?" Mary found herself asking, enjoying how easygoing he was; he'd learned how to get by on the bare minimum with Norah and Robyn garnering so much of the attention. "Where's your hair?" she patted his pretty sand-colored strands to give him a hint.

He raised his arms, like Mary was about to put a shirt over his head, flexing his fingers at the thin air, but at least he got the idea. He was a pretty smart kid.

Scooping the cup through the water, his aunt went on, "Let's give that a try; turn you into a little daredevil like your diva sister…"

But now that Max had her to himself he was determined to hold his own, "Mine!" he insisted, grabbing his fated glass. "Mine! Me!"

"My mistake," Mary scoffed, allowing his fingers to close around the handle to dip into the water on his own.

Once her nephew had loaded the cup as high as he'd wanted, Mary coaxed it loose again, hoping he wouldn't pitch a fit. Fortunately, he seemed contented with her taking charge now and she raised it to his head, causing his big blue eyes to journey skyward.

"It's gonna be cold, buddy…" she found herself warning him, tipping the edge precariously.

But Max just batted the open air above, dusting of freckles standing out in the sun, with a silly little grin on his face, ready for her to drop the bomb. Watching him, Mary couldn't help noticing how fearless he was being. Here he had no idea what was coming down the pike – how he'd feel, if he'd like it, if he'd hate it, if it would be scary. But, he was willing to try, just on the possibility it might be even better than imagined.

Mary always pictured herself as pretty intrepid, but only when it came to her job as a Marshal. In other areas of life, not so much.

"Here it comes…" and without further ado, she trickled the water onto his head, little drops one-by-one, spattering his beautiful hair, splashing flat and spreading in the strands.

Max actually laughed at first, fairly thrilled with his escapade, and Mary did the same. But the longer and faster she poured, he became agitated, like it was all too much and began sniveling, eventually ascending into a timid cry before Mary could bring her antics to a halt.

"It's okay; I'll stop…" she promised, but it was plain he was past that now. "I'll stop; we don't have to do anymore…"

But Max continued to whine, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and he crawled through the tiny waves, clinging to Mary's bare ankle dipped in the shallow water. His cheek brushed her cuffed jeans, tasting familiarity and shelter at having himself rained upon here this steamy August afternoon.

"Come on, pal…" Mary took pity and reached under his bare arms to pull him onto her lap, soaking her already damp tank-top. "Don't get all bent out of shape man; it's all right…"

There actually wasn't room for a wiggly Max on her fast-disappearing lap; he roved over the bump trying to let himself be comforted, and so she lifted him higher with his head on her shoulder.

"Shh…" she crooned over his uncertainty, running her long fingers up and down his slippery back. "Shh; don't cry Max…" she implored. "Come on; I didn't mean to get you all worked up."

Mary turned his face to hers from where it rested beside her cheek, standing him up as well as she was able. All he could see was that some woman similar to his aunt was hiding behind enormous aviator sunglasses and he pointed, trying to confirm his suspicions.

"Berry…" he sounded a little unsure. "Berry?"

"The one and only," Mary teased him, using her free hand to slip the sunglasses onto her head.

Eye-to-eye, face-to-face seemed to do the trick. Max gave a genuine giggle at the individual behind the mask and Mary couldn't stop herself from taking one of his hands and pressing it to her lips, a little guilty she'd scared him.

However, she didn't expect to be caught and nearly jumped out of her skin when a familiar voice sounded beside her.

"Hey!" Marshall plunked down right next to her, looking very pleased he'd managed to pull off something of a surprise.

"Hey…" Mary tried not to show how he'd thrown her, forgetting Max for a moment. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in court today."

"I was…" he puffed out his chest pompously. "We got done _early_; witness was a _dream_ on the stand and now here I am! Free for the _entire_ afternoon! Can you imagine the possibilities?" he certainly was proud of himself as he tended to Max. "Hello, sir!" he also took his turn at kissing fingers. "Turning into a dolphin right before our eyes!"

Mary gaped stupidly for a moment, and then decided she'd just take his presence for what it was. There had been no mention of marriage since his original attempt, and she was starting to believe he'd put it on the back burner, especially considering how unwell she'd been with the pregnancy.

"Where are the girls?" Marshall breezed on when Mary didn't respond.

"Diving board," Mary jerked her thumb behind her, bouncing Max to keep him from getting restless again. "Was trying to get the moppet here a little wetter, but he didn't care for it…" she indicated the cup, empty and floating at the surface at the water.

"Hmm…" Marshall had on his best devious look, contemplating with his finger on his chin. "That _is_ interesting…" he remarked.

Before Mary could react, he'd gathered it into his hands, water already securely inside, and was coming at her before she realized what he was doing.

"Let's see how _you_ like it!"

"Marshall…!"

"Man the lifeboats, captain!" he referred to Max, who laughed excitedly.

Mary tried to duck out of his wrath, but she wasn't quick enough with Max still in her arms and Marshall was able to drench her head before she could slip out of the way. She let out an ear-splitting and very girlish squeal, reminiscent of Robyn, which made Marshall laugh harder.

"You douche!" she accused, shoving him in the chest while her hair dripped in her eyes, drops sliding from the edges of her sunglasses angled in the locks. "What are you, six?"

"And proud of it, my lady," he gave a mock bow, but Mary was surprised to see that dust had flown off his shirt where she'd smacked at him, like he'd been rolling around in the dirt.

"Why do you smell like a barnyard?" she asked as she got a good whiff. "They hold testimony out among the livestock and not tell me?"

But, before Marshall could explain his scent as well as why his T-shirt was caked in earth, the identical squeals Mary knew so well erupted from halfway down the pool. Norah and Robyn raced through the crowds of other children, slipping and sliding on bare feet, somehow able to be heard over all the splashing and shouting surrounding them. More than one lifeguard blew its whistle signaling for them to slow down, but they'd reached their destination before it mattered.

"Marshall!" Norah cried, flinging herself at him; he mocked being knocked over to the wet ground with the collision. The girl rested atop his chest where he laid flat, bits of dirt clinging to Norah's wet suit. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"Change of plans, champ," he informed her, sitting her up so he was able to sit cross-legged while she kneeled in his lap. "I am in the here and now to enjoy this most beautiful summertime afternoon with you and Princess Robyn," he inclined his head at the other, who was draped over Mary's back like a cape, arms wound around her neck.

"Don't choke me, babe…" she found herself chastising, patting the hands below her chin. "And hey, don't run either…" she remembered as Robyn loosened her grip. "You'll trip and you'll fall and you'll knock out your teeth."

Mary turned to see the effect this was having on her niece, but she merely fed her a perplexed stare, "Just _my_ teeth? Or Norah's too?"

"Norah's too."

"The woman speaks the truth, princess," Marshall reinforced while Norah's fingers crawled at the neck of his shirt trying to get him to take it off; he was already wearing swimming trunks as bottoms.

Robyn was indignant, "I'm not a _princess_," the trademark hand on her hip.

Marshall raised his eyebrows in shock, "You're _not_? This is certainly new."

"I'm a _mermaid_!" the little one was gleeful to share. "I'm a mermaid and I live way-way-way beneath the ocean; and my hair is pretty and red…" Mary didn't have to guess where she'd cooked this up. "And my daddy just blasted all of my perfect treasures with his lightning stick!"

"Sounds like Peter," Mary muttered with great sarcasm as Robyn flipped herself back into the water, wading around in the shallow end and trying to coax Max along, but he was clutching at Mary's arm; starting to become worn-out.

"Flounder, you have to come with me to save me from the eels!" the elder sister bellowed dramatically when her brother wouldn't budge.

But the longer Robyn tugged, the more Max resisted, "No! No! No Wob-in!"

Mary had to chuckle at Max's inability to pronounce the 'r' sound, thinking of how she'd hated when Jinx had-had the same problem after Norah had been born with the ridiculous baby talk.

"Better not pull on him…" Marshall instructed gently to get Robyn to ease up. "It has been a long day for him; don't forget he gets tired quicker than you do."

"'Cause he's a _baby_…" Robyn pouted with the man's instruction, and Mary could practically see the wheels spinning in her head of how best to entertain next.

Just to ensure the little girl was going to keep her hands off him, Mary shifted him onto her lap as best she could. He immediately snuggled in, little cheek resting on her bulge, which made her slightly uncomfortable at first. But then, she remembered he above anyone would not give a damn about her belly; it was simply a place to lay his head. She wouldn't have been surprised if he fell asleep in a flash.

Meanwhile, Norah had succeeded in getting Marshall's shirt off, undoubtedly wanting him to get in the pool with her, but something else caught her attention before she could beg.

"Your shirt smells like horses," she revealed baldly, taking a long sniff. "Where were you before you came?"

Marshall used the opportunity to stand her up on the pavement, revealing her classic, tried-and-true Speedo swimsuit; solid red with navy piping down the sides. It was such a glaring contrast from Robyn's, which was canary yellow; hot pink flowers spread all over the fabric, complete with a flippy little flounce around the bottom, which made Mary ill. Both girls' hair was a sight; with its length, it became painstakingly tangled whenever they went swimming and crunched like straw when it dried.

"Well, I was with horses," Marshall answered Norah's question very plainly. "Might explain my scent."

Mary got in on that before her daughter could, "You were with _horses_? Where?"

"I was at that stable I took you to that one time," he still addressed Norah, poking his finger in her chest. "Do you remember?"

"Oh, yeah…" she recalled. "You let me ride on that white pony, and mommy really yelled at you when she found out because she thought I would've fallen off."

Mary didn't even go red, "Deserved it, too."

"But…what were you doing there today?" Norah persisted, ignoring her mother.

"Yes, what _were_ you doing there, Poindexter?" Mary instigated as she was often known to do.

Marshall was as patient as ever, "Well, I go down there to think sometimes. It helps me sort things out to hang with the horses; my dad used to take me riding when I was little, and he always told me that being on a horse is like being free," he explained philosophically. "You can forget everything up there, and focus on what really matters; toss the rest off and figure out where your heart is."

Were they really having this conversation at the public pool?

"And you did all that today?" Norah sounded impressed, to which Marshall laughed.

"Well, I had a little extra time," he chortled. "And the stable isn't far from the house; just a couple blocks."

Mary found the action very 'Marshall' and was resolving to leave it at that, until she found herself contemplating the situation a little more thoroughly. What would Marshall have to think about, way out in the wilderness all by himself? Something he wouldn't discuss with Mary, or something he felt he _couldn't_ discuss with Mary. There was no guessing what that something was, and it dashed Mary's hope down the drain; any wish she'd had of him putting matching bands aside forgotten.

And with this realization, her insides exploded, and not just in the figurative sense. A violent twisting sensation coursed through her abdomen, like someone had reached in and coiled her intestines tight inside their fingers. The pain struck so quickly, Mary couldn't cover herself in time to stop the gasp that escaped. It was slight enough Norah and Robyn didn't seem to think much of it, but Max definitely started from where he lay on her lap. And there was no fooling Marshall.

"Mare…" he sounded anxious, and she could feel his hand on her arm but she was trying to concentrate on breathing to get it to go away. Her eyes were still shut when he said it again, "Mary?"

If he would just give her a second she could siphon it off, but whatever it was had really smarted, even more so when she wasn't expecting it. Even after the ache tapered, she could still feel the throbbing it left behind.

Breathing quietly, she listened to Marshall's voice to her left, "What's going on? Do you hurt?"

Damn him. She'd done so well, and now…

"Mommy…" Norah's face was fraught with concern when she cared enough to open her lids; her dark eyes probing her mother's for some kind of explanation. "What's the matter? Is the baby…?" her voice trailed and Mary was startled to see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Okay. No matter the pain; there was no way that could continue.

"Bug, its okay…" her timbre was a tiny bit shaky, but mostly determined as she laid a hand on her daughter's forearm. "It's okay; everything's fine…" she even smiled as well as she could and leaned over to kiss Norah's sopping hair. "I promise. You don't need to worry about me," she turned a little firmer. "Marshall's got that covered," an attempt at a joke.

Norah managed to reel in her tears, but she knew Marshall wasn't going to let up, something he proved with his next words, directed at both Norah and Robyn, who had stopped splashing around to watch.

"You two keep an eye on Max for a minute, okay?" he instructed; their lounge chair was just a few feet away. "We'll be right back; make sure you're careful."

"Careful's not fun," Robyn decided.

Marshall offered a smile as well as his hand so Mary could stand up, "Lots of things aren't, unfortunately."

Mary allowed him only a moment of chivalry in helping her stand up, mostly so she didn't slide in the shallow depth on the steps. She rumpled Norah's hair on the way back to the chair, and was glad to see her join her cousin in the water once more; fears erased. The minute they were out of range, however, she yanked her fingers free and plunked down in the chair; churlish and highly annoyed.

Before he could even say a word, "I _really_ wish you would not act that way in front of the girls," Mary snapped. "For Christ's sake, Marshall; did you see Norah's face?" she gestured beyond. "You can't let them think I'm falling to pieces with every combustion of my gut!" not very poetic. "There is a _human being _inside this house," she poked a finger at her belly. "For the love of God; I don't know what you expect."

With that, she crossed her arms over her middle, wondering in the back of her mind if her anger had to do with his hovering, or the way said human being had reared its head just at the _thought_ of tying the knot. What was the matter with her?

"Finished?" Marshall inquired evenly, pulling over his own chair to sit on and tossing her a towel from the ground by their bags.

Mary huffed, still surly, "You want more?"

"Not at this particular moment," he mused. "Just thought I'd ask. You know, to be polite."

She allowed the silence to cloak them then, giving herself a chance to cool down and chill out; to give him credit where credit was due. She knew he was simply worried; that he loved her and wanted to help, but she'd changed a lot for him in the last five years. She couldn't let him take whatever dignity she had left. She was already a glorified rug-rat-watcher and US Marshal on leave, with a fourth kid to add to the mix, and a little girl who spun herself into a tizzy at the slightest idea her mother could be in danger. She'd taken it all in stride as much as she could, but sometimes the alterations got the better of her.

After what seemed an appropriate amount of time, Marshall finally spoke in a voice of forced calm, "Are you sure you're all right?"

Mary wasn't looking at him and bit her lip to keep from pouncing, "I'm fine, Marshall," she replied tightly. "It was just a twinge; it caught me off guard. It really is not a big deal."

His hand crawled to her leg, coming to rest on her knee, and squeezed lightly with acceptance, "Okay."

With that, the silence returned and Mary watched the children splash at the water's edge; carefree and happy and lighthearted. She found herself instantly wishing that she, like Marshall, also had a safe, secluded, and quiet place to think. Because anymore, she found her head had less and less room – even for something as theoretically simple as thoughts.

XXX

**A/N: As Marshall himself once said, 'Talk is a'comin'!" ;) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks for those who have reviewed – and those who are reading! I know not everyone has time to review every day, believe me, so I am grateful whether you're giving me comments or not!**

XXX

Marshall was forced to return to the office after the excursion at the swimming pool, which meant he didn't get home until after Norah had already gone to bed. Mary was used to his late nights when he stretched himself too thin with a rare afternoon off, but it was almost eleven thirty by the time he walked through the door.

Mary had considered going to bed an hour before, but had opted to stay up and keep busy instead; paying bills, correcting Marshall's paperwork from the office, and anything else she could get her hands on. Sometimes, she didn't know how to stop. Marshall clearly thought the same thing when he ventured into the kitchen where she was working at the island, leaning her head into her palm as she wrote.

"Evening…" he greeted her tiredly, dropping a kiss on her head since she hadn't looked up from her efforts.

"Not for much longer," she replied, glancing to see they only had a half hour before midnight.

"Touché…" was Marshall's response as he went to the fridge and stuck his head in; he always needed time to wind down before going to bed. This was largely why Mary had stayed up to wait for him. "Norah go down okay?"

"Yeah; swimming wore her out," Mary said vaguely. "Her hair's gonna be a sight tomorrow, but I wasn't up to fighting her; you know she hates taking a bath because Robyn told her snakes climb up through the plumbing."

Marshall chuckled as a swigged from a beer bottle, "Right. I forgot."

Mary, concentrating on her calculations in the bills, didn't immediately respond after that; she was close to done and proud of herself for managing it before Marshall would want to turn in. Swiveling on the stool in her drawstring pants – which she could still get on thanks to the handy elastic in the waist – and one of Marshall's shirts, she presented him with the water bill.

"Check that will you…?" she requested. "I want to make sure I didn't make some ridiculous error. Last thing we need is for the IRS to come knocking."

Marshall took the piece of paper as asked and gave it the once over, "Looks fine to me. We do okay otherwise this month?" it had gotten a tiny bit tight with Mary no longer being on the clock, but usually nothing to worry about.

"It would seem we are going to live to see another thirty days without starving," Mary quipped. "Even with what it'll cost to get Norah off to school in September."

"We always do the proverbial scrimp and pinch in autumn," Marshall replied, stepping up behind her and rubbing one of her shoulders with his free hand. She was grateful, as her back had begun to ache after leaning over Max at the pool all day. "By Thanksgiving we're usually back on track."

It didn't hit Mary immediately. She was tired, after all, and thinking ahead to how nice her bed would feel after she finished up now that Marshall was home. He was halfway through his next sentence before she registered where he was going.

"I checked into it, and there's this little church down in Nob Hill – really private – and they said they could do something small for us the first week of December," he revealed, still rubbing, and Mary knew it was so she would not blow her top. "That way, we'll have had a week or two with the baby, but we'll get it going before Christmas and all the hectic, but nonetheless lovely pandemonium that comes with that."

Mary was pissed. Not so much at him, although that was certainly part of it. She was pissed she'd let herself get baited into this conversation. Here she'd been worried about it for days and the minute she let her guard down, there he was.

Whirling around on her stool caused his hand to fall from her back, but she didn't care.

"Why would you do that?" she stared up at him with her most dangerous glare. "Why would you 'check into it?'" her voice grew more snappish the longer she spoke.

Marshall was calm at first, "Because the other night you mentioned nuptials by Thanksgiving, and so I took you at your word."

She could kill him for that. He'd known she wasn't serious, that she was just trying to ward him off since the baby was due at Thanksgiving and there was no way they'd be able to manage a wedding too. But he'd played dumb and now she was paying – big time.

"Well, come to think of it; you were right…" Mary nodded his direction, not liking him towering above her. "Thanksgiving obviously sucks; we'll have this kid to deal with, and I didn't even consider Christmas so your wintertime, snow-covered, toboggan-style fantasy is going to have to be put on hold…" she turned back to her work, but Marshall had been tolerant long enough and drove onward.

"Mary, I am not going to have this discussion with you again," she sounded angry as well as upset from behind her.

"Then don't," she replied coldly, feeling her insides start to tighten at the prospect. "You brought it up, genius."

She about had a stroke when his hand closed hard and fast on her shoulder, so different from the rhythmic circles he'd placed there before. Now he was forcing her around, making her look at him, and when she did she was startled. His eyes had gone steely in their usual blueness, making him look harsher and more imposing than she was used to.

"What?" her voice was loud over the rapid beating of her heart.

"I want to marry you," she'd never heard him so emphatic without raising his voice, but he seemed noisy nonetheless. "Either help me set a date or tell me why you are so resistant, because I am not going to spend another five years letting you dance around this."

"_Letting_ me?" Mary was quick to scoff. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've been patient long enough," he wasn't backing down in the least. "I have sat here waiting for you to be ready because I did not want to push you – you hate being pushed…"

"That's right; I do," Mary informed him through gritted teeth. "What do you think this is right now? Some sort of gentle tap in the right direction? This is shoving me into an avalanche, Marshall!"

"You know…"

He let out a bitter laugh as he stepped away from Mary, shaking his head side-to-side like he didn't even recognize her; like he didn't know who she was anymore. She waited for an explanation to this, but he just stood there, clearly trying to keep himself in check to at least a reasonable standard. It couldn't have been more evident; however, that he was willing to work a lot less the longer he tried.

"Are-are you testing me?" he asked directly. "Is that what you're doing? Because, I like to think my intelligence is honed enough that I already passed this test."

"Enlighten me, _doofus_…" Mary slammed the books she was working in shut with an almighty smack, so loud it might've made her leap if she hadn't been the one to cause it. Standing up and jerking the stool out of the way, she continued, "Enough with the philosophic shit. What test are we talking about? Because I guess _my_ intelligence isn't 'honed' enough to know what the hell you mean."

Marshall threw his hands palms out, and she could see in his eyes that he was getting desperate; that he failed to understand how she could be so opposing for so long. But, she'd changed so much for him and this was a step she could not take; it would put her over the brink and she would change right back into the person she'd been before.

"Mary, are you _afraid_?" he pleaded, a little bit of whine in his voice. "All you have to do is _tell_ me. But, haven't I proven to you I'm not going anywhere? Isn't that what this is all about? I am so devoted to you I want to show you I'm going to be here forever," he continued. "That's what marriage _is_."

Forever. Mary wanted to spit in his face. Forever was nothing. Forever was a promise that could never be kept, no matter who you were. Forever did not exist. It never had, and it never would. There was no point in binding as one because it could be severed at the drop of a hat. It was that easy.

"I am not your father, Mary," Marshall sounded eerily serious when she didn't respond, standing there with her arms crossed.

Now she scowled, "I know perfectly well who you are."

"Then don't make this so difficult," he was softening just slightly, but he was no less adamant. Walking her direction again, he swallowed as he tried to begin once more. "You don't have to drive me away just to see if I'll come back every time."

Mary was not a fan of this view and chose to ignore it, instead deciding to become riled again.

"Marshall, it's a _piece of paper_…" she didn't want to make him sound stupid as she pressed each word so distinctly, but had the shrewd idea it had given that impression. "It doesn't make any difference – signed or unsigned…"

"You're a US Marshal, inspector…" Marshall narrowed his eyebrows critically, and Mary was definitely thrown at the formal term being used; she didn't like it. "You cannot stand here and tell me you don't know what kinds of situations arise in court for couples who are not legally married – couples with _children_."

This was logical, and Mary wasn't in a logical frame of mind and so she blew right past him, "So, you want to get hitched because you knocked me up – to make sure I read all the fine print? Is that it?"

"No!" he shouted so loudly his voice echoed against the linoleum, seemingly reverberating in the walls around. "I want to marry you because I love you – you freak!"

There was a profound silence following his outburst, mostly where Mary stood there breathing hard and trying not to let her cramping stomach get the better of her; she again had the sensation like she'd taken in too much. It was uncomfortable and she hurt; she wanted to tell Marshall, to go back to where they were before this whole thing spiraled into motion. But, she couldn't because he'd think he'd caused her pain by letting her get worked up and it wasn't that at all. She was certain.

"We need to figure this out," Marshall eventually posed in the thin, swirling air that circled them in a voice of strained composure. "Are you…?" he held up his hands again, and then let them come to rest at his sides. "Do you not want to get married? Is that what you're telling me?"

Yes. No. Mary had no idea. Just that she'd known two Marshall's in her life – the Marshall who had pined after her for eight years; viewing her through some pair of rose-colored glasses despite knowing she was cranky and sarcastic and often unfeeling. And the Marshall who was like a giddy schoolboy when she'd returned his love; when she'd made such a hearty attempt to be better for him. But, she wasn't really that person; she never had been. And one day he was going to realize it; marriage would be so messy when he did.

"I just…like things the way they are…"she finally said in a low voice.

Marshall was not accepting, "Well, I want to move forward. I cannot stay in park forever."

"So, what then?" Mary spat. "You gonna thrust me down the aisle against my will?"

"I don't know…" Marshall shook his head, and he looked truly lost. "I don't know. But, I wish you would quit being such a child," the closest he got to an insult. "Tell me what the problem is and live with it."

How could she do that when the problem was her concealing her old selfishness underneath? She couldn't live up to the image he'd carried around for eight years; just as she couldn't be the perfect little girl James had needed. She was broken and always would be. In the end, Marshall would have to accept it.

"I'm going to bed…" he announced when she refused to answer. "Goodnight," it was half-hearted at best.

Mary did not return his farewell and he brushed past her, marching rather stiltedly toward the bedroom. Even from her spot in the kitchen, she didn't miss how roughly he shut the door, even though she had taken to leaning on the counter trying to get some of her stamina back. She felt sick, but was attempting to content herself with the fact that Marshall would not actually go anywhere. She felt badly about being so stubborn, but in the end things would stay the way they were and that was what was important.

Unfortunately, her issues had not ended for the evening when she heard a second, much more timid sound of a door opening and closing. Breathing deeply, she ventured around so she could see the hall and there was Norah in her roomy T-shirt and tattered extra-long locks. She was hanging on the frame of the door, eyes fixed on her mother, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Mary played it cool, kicking herself for allowing her and Marshall to get out-of-control with Norah in the house. She'd lived with fighting parents and had hated it; Norah didn't need the same.

"What's up, Bug?" she asked, journeying down the hall. Knowing she shouldn't but unable to resist, Mary lifted her up and into her arms, which squashed the bump a little, but it wasn't too bad. "You should be in bed."

Norah's voice was small, "I heard you and Marshall fighting."

Mary shrugged, "Well, you know us. We fight all the time."

Her daughter's face was remarkably close to her own, beautiful and innocent, drawn in lines of exhaustion, worry, wonder, and hope. It was a lot for a six-year-old – too much.

"This sounded different," Norah insisted. "You sounded pretty angry."

"Ah, well…" her mother refused to look the tiniest bit concerned. "Everybody gets angry. Come on, you know me, love…" she fell back on that again. "I'm always angry."

Norah actually looked a little befuddled, "Always?"

Mary chuckled, regretting being so blasé about that, not having anticipated Norah's reaction.

"I guess not always," she admitted. "Always is a lot."

Norah turned her fearful gaze to the closed bedroom door, blinking sadly at what lay behind it. Mary felt a pang of pity for Marshall, knowing he would hate to think of Norah fretting over the pair of them; it wasn't his fault they'd ended up here.

"Marshall won't stay mad for a long time, will he?" she wondered aloud.

"No Bug, I doubt it…"

"Because I don't want him to leave here…" her tone began to quiver and when she looked back at Mary, her chest was heaving up and down, making her harder to hold in the dim light of the hallway. "I don't want him to leave here…"

"Norah, Marshall isn't going anywhere," Mary turned as tender as she knew how, shocked her child worried about such a thing. "Why would you think that?"

The answer came quicker than she was ready for it, "Your daddy left _you_."

Mary was definitely thrown, wondering where on earth Norah had connected these very far-flung dots. Did she have more intuition about her mother than Mary gave her credit for? Did she think all fathers or father figures left eventually? Had she somehow instilled that in her?

"Well, I know…" she said softly. "But, that doesn't mean you're going to lose Marshall. And you have a dad, Norah; you know that…" it felt important to give Mark some credit.

"But…" the little one started to shake; strung-out from a busy summer day and muffled, irate voices beyond her bedroom door. The tears began to roll with her next string of words, and Mary was disheartened. "There's this girl at school – Heather – and she has a step-dad and she hates him, and I don't hate Marshall…" now she was crying for real; it was too late for her to see sense. "I don't hate Marshall; I love him…"

"Oh, Bug…" her mother whispered in a hushed voice, pulling her trembling form inward, even closer into her chest so they were no longer facing each other. Norah's legs wound around her waist as she clutched Mary's neck, weeping at the thought of what might be. "I know you love him; I love him too."

Norah nodded behind her, sniffling; even she knew she was not in the right frame of mind. She was confused and wiped out; it had been a long day.

"And Marshall adores you," she promised. "Everything's gonna be okay…"

Mary hated herself for saying that. It was a phrase that had destroyed her childhood when it turned out not to be true, but she didn't know where else to go right now.

"We have each other, all right?" she whispered, kissing Norah's hair. "That's all that matters."

XXX

**A/N: Eeeek! What will become of our pair? More ahead! Thanks in advance if you review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank-you for all the reviews! Lots of you seemed to be catching up today, and I am very grateful! I hope everyone is enjoying how this is going so far. I definitely anticipated there being some frustration with Mary, which is totally understandable. I differ from a lot of fans in that I actually prefer Mary to Marshall, which is not to say that there is **_**anything**_** to dislike about Marshall. I just really-really-really like Mary LOL! But, because of that I definitely tend to try and make her more sympathetic whenever possible. Little bit of a different look in this story. ;)**

**I don't own IPS or McDonald's LOL! (Which, again, not referred to by name, but just the same.)**

XXX

"Mare? Mary?"

She'd heard it the first time. It just didn't seem very essential to answer.

"Mary!"

The yelling indicated she ought to tune in. And so, with droopy eyes and a somber expression, she blinked at her little sister from across the booth. She was annoyed; that much was clear. Mary could tell by her wide eyes, the look of puzzlement, and then the irritated huff.

"Where were you?" Brandi asked contemptuously. "I was just telling you about this great commission I made yesterday; you didn't say a word."

And why did Brandi think she'd be interested in that? But, Mary feigned some shame to appease the younger.

"Sorry Squish…" she averted her eyes to the quarter pounder in front of her and thought she might hurl. Even the aroma was enough to send her running for the toilet and Mary suddenly couldn't remember why they'd ever come here.

Brandi softened a little with the apology, "Aren't you going to eat? You only had a few fries."

And the mention of fries just made it worse. She'd had a dull, but nonetheless persistent ache coursing through her lower abdomen since she'd gotten up that morning. It was completely zapping her appetite, making her feel slow and unusually lethargic. She was pretty sure it was stress that was doing it, and knew she needed to learn to cool it so Marshall didn't find out.

"I'm not hungry…" she was forced to admit, shoving the burger at her sister. "Do you want it?"

Brandi definitely became concerned with this, and spared a quick glance to Norah and Robyn in the play place beyond the glass to make sure they were occupied. Max was sitting to her left, mashing his apple slices in his fingers.

"Do you feel okay?" the younger pressed with just a hint of caution. "You're so quiet. Usually even when you're sick you're snarking at me; sometimes even more than usual," a brave attempt at a laugh. "Is there something going on?"

Mary shook her head automatically; she'd never learned how to discuss her problems and now was no exception. She was very accustomed to just getting rid of those that felt the need to pry; it was how she operated best.

"No," she replied blankly. "There's nothing going on. Norah was up during the night; that's all," it wasn't a total lie.

"Are you sure that's it?" Brandi wasn't known for being able to leave well enough alone.

"Yes," Mary was swift at keeping it contained. "I am sure. Come on Squish; you know its hell being pregnant. Search your brain."

Brandi chuckled, "Well, there is that," she admitted, pulling her son up around his belly, which required she fix his hitched up shirt. Placing him on the table, she offered him a fry, "Here Max – you want some?" she crooned. "Norah used to _love_ these when she was your size."

Mary was smiling on the inside even if she couldn't manage to work one onto her face, recalling how Jinx had stuffed her daughter full of the things as an infant. She'd been so afraid that 'people food' would harm her, wanting to stick to strained. She'd come a long way.

"Say, 'yummy-yummy in my tummy…'" Brandi sang, patting Max's stomach which made him giggle around the fries. "There's love in that tummy…" and without further ado, she pressed her lips to his bare skin, making him shriek out loud.

The sound was almost painfully sweet to Mary; such a joyous and effortless noise from her little nephew. Unfortunately, it made her head pound listlessly to accompany whatever was going on in her gut and she began to rub her temple, hoping this would help.

It was inopportune that Brandi noticed, "Mare, maybe we should go home…" she suggested, peering around Max's head to get a good look at her. "The girls can come in early; I can tell that you don't feel good…"

"I can't _go_ anywhere, Squish; not until one…" glancing at her phone, she saw that it was a quarter till. "I've gotta take Norah over to Mark's and he won't be home until then. And you're taking Robyn over to the studio, aren't you?"

"Well, sure…" Brandi shrugged. "But, I could drop Norah with Mark so you could go home and rest. Does Marshall know that you've been feeling like this?"

"_Feeling_ implies it's occurred over some extended period of time…"

"Hasn't it?" Brandi prodded.

"Yes, but…" Mary sighed loudly, surprised at how much harder it was to draw air with her stomach expanding so rapidly. "Marshall doesn't know about _today_, no. But, it doesn't matter," she insisted. "I don't have time to rest anyway; Stan's coming into town and I promised I'd see him."

"Stan's coming in?" her sister asked curiously, helping herself to Mary's untouched burger while Max continued devouring the fries. "From Washington?"

"No, from Nigeria," Mary quipped. "Yes, from Washington. You know he comes every August if he can."

"How long will he be here?" Brandi ticked on around bites of burger.

"I don't know…" the elder exhaled. "A week or something. He and that lady friend of his – they both had days off or…" she shook her head. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Lia…" Brandi recalled with a romantic smirk, popping in a French fry of her own. "I can't believe they've stayed together as long as they have with the distance."

"Well, she's kind of freelance…" Mary waved an indistinct hand. "Goes where the wind blows her or some such crap like that…"

"I wonder if they'll get married," Brandi remarked out of nowhere, but to Mary it was like a bullhorn.

She knew Brandi hadn't guessed, that she was just making conversation, but the mention made her feel like she was suffocating. She was bound and determined not to declare that her and Marshall were arguing, and especially not why. Mostly because she knew what everyone would say – Jinx, Brandi, even Norah it seemed. Get hitched. Tie the knot. Buy the rings. Say the, 'I do.' And Mary was in no mood to be told what to do.

"Who knows?" she managed before her belly was gripped with a particularly strident cramp, pulling tight and tense against her muscles. "Ugh…" was all she could get out, cringing and shutting her eyes; caressing the side of her stomach agitatedly.

Apparently, Brandi's patience had been tested enough and she took charge, shoving all their wrappers and garbage into an empty sack.

"All right; forget it…" she decided before Mary could protest. "You're going home. I'll drop Norah off. Mom can keep Max too; you need to sleep or relax or…"

"Brandi, come on…"

But she was already disposing of their trash, carefully picking out the girls' toys to take home, beckoning with her finger for them to come back inside from the play place. Mary wanted to argue, but found she did not really care at this point. She was too distracted by what was going on with Marshall to waste the energy telling Brandi everything was status quo.

Both Norah and Robyn rushed in, hair full of static from running around, shoeless and nearly skidding in their socks.

"Greetings!" Robyn called with a twirl on the spot making her locks fan out all over, whipping around her face. "Mommy, I've been practicing my act; do you want to hear?"

"You can practice on Jinx, sweetie…" Brandi placated her daughter. "Go grab your shoes, girls. It's time to go."

"Already?" Norah seemed skeptical.

"But I haven't chased the bats out of the tunnels yet!" Robyn declared, gesturing empathically at the complex they had just left. "And _I'm_ the only one who can do it…" it was clear where this was going; she never liked being told she couldn't show off. "I, Robyn Mary Shannon, born on the Fourth of July…!"

"Robyn," Brandi cut her off seriously. "I said wait for Jinx. Hurry up and get your shoes."

Mary's little niece pouted significantly with this command and sashayed, swinging her hips in highly dramatic fashion as she marched back to retrieve her sneakers. It seemed Norah had little objection, but she appeared a bit anxious, not entirely able to forget what had happened the night before.

"Am I still going to dad's?" she asked Mary.

"Yep…" her mother ran her fingers through some of the knots in her hair. "But I'll see you again on Sunday – day after tomorrow."

"Does Marshall know I'm going?"

Mary was thrown, but resolved not to show it, "Yeah. He knows the schedule better than I do," she even tried to joke.

Norah seemed to brighten as she heard this, "Yeah, you always forget in the summer."

"Don't remind me, Bug…" Mary stuck a finger in her daughter's chest, prompting another smile. "And guess what?" she decided to fall back on what she'd told Brandi just as Robyn returned with her shoes, still looking put-out.

"What?"

"Stan's coming to visit today. Better brush up on your Marshal lingo; he'll quiz you next week," Mary said.

This earned her a real smile; Norah loved Stan. Sometimes she had trouble remembering who he was; what he was all about, who he had been to Mary and Marshall before she'd been around. But, the minute he appeared – bald head and all – she didn't need any help with the recollections. He was the closest thing to a fun-loving uncle she could have.

"I brought your shoes…" Robyn informed her cousin in the midst of the conversation, handing her the classic red All Star's.

"Thanks…" Norah was grateful and sat down to put them on.

Mary waited through the girls yanking on their sneakers, Robyn needing some serious help with her laces, feeling thankful for Brandi getting rid of all the food that had made her feel so ill. Once they were up and grabbing their toys, her sister snatched Max and balanced him on her hip with the usual goodbyes.

"I'll call you tonight, okay Mare?" she posed.

Mary wasn't sure why this was necessary, but agreed, "Sure."

"Aren't you coming?" Norah asked, turning over her shoulder to inquire.

"Brandi's gonna take you; come over here and say goodbye…" Mary insisted, waggling her fingers in toward her chest, feeling warmth spread from her fingertips to her feet when her daughter put her arms around her neck. It was a quick hug, but she rarely let her get away without a proper farewell. "You have fun with your dad," she instructed, patting her back briefly before she pulled away. "I'll bind and gag Stan so he can't escape 'till you get back."

"Okay," Norah giggled. "Bye mom…" she waved behind her as she went to join Brandi.

But, it appeared the proverbial 'bon voyage' was not entirely complete. Once Norah was through, it was obvious Robyn could not let the opportunity pass itself by without one of her many attempts to scrounge for her new cousin. With a colossal dive, she flung her arms around Mary's waist, pressing her ear to the bulge as usual.

Fortunately, Brandi was quick, "Robyn, honey…" she seized her little one's arm to get her off. "Leave Mary be; she doesn't…"

It was lucky Mary was quick too and that Norah had interested herself in her knotted laces, because she cast her sister a very adamant shake of her head to get her to shut up.

"…She doesn't need you bombarding her like that," the younger sister covered. "Let's go."

Robyn was noisy the entire way to the door; Mary could hear her bemoaning yet another failed attempt to discover the child beneath.

"I'll _never_ feel her!" still set on female. "She's hiding – she doesn't like me!"

Mary listened to her all the way out the door, her tiny voice finally drowned by the tinkling bell above and the rush of cars on the street, dying completely and leaving the aunt alone in her booth.

But Robyn's words seemed to ring in the space she left behind, and Mary couldn't help wondering with every twist and writhe of her gut if Marshall was thinking the same thing about her.

She was hiding. She was unfeeling. She didn't like him. Hell, at this point, how could he be sure she _loved_ him? It was a vicious, destructive cycle Mary spun into motion just to keep the man from seeing she was still all those things.

Deep down, and underneath.

XXX

**A/N: This one was a tiny bit short, but hopefully you guys liked it and…Stan's coming! Yay! **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank-you for the reviews! You all know my stories are already completely written-up before I even post them, so I hope the progression indicates as much. It's going somewhere, I promise. ;)**

XXX

Mary hated herself for it, but she actually did what Brandi told her after relinquishing herself of all the children, and went home to rest. It didn't make her feel any better, mostly because she knew the source of all her discomfort came from whatever she wanted to label this situation with Marshall. The kid was either nudging her to sign the papers already, or ship out. She had no idea which, but intended to ignore it as long as possible.

She'd reverted to the couch with the television and random WITSEC documents, doing her best to put the pain out of her mind, when she heard the knock on the door. Worried it might be Mark with some sort of snafu regarding Norah; Mary dumped everything on the couch, flipped the TV to mute and got up to answer.

She was so startled to see the shiny bald head in the late afternoon sun, sweat perspiring from the skin onto a much more casual outfit than the man usually donned; she threw out a hand to steady herself on the frame. Feeling this out-of-her-element so often wasn't something she relished getting used to.

"Stan…" Mary breathed; rather lamely she couldn't help thinking.

"Hi!" the one in question declared boyishly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I know we were supposed to have dinner tonight, but Lia's class ran late, and so here I am!"

Mary was unexpectedly stung by Stan's just showing up; she didn't feel right and knew she looked terrible in jeans that were fast becoming too small and a shirt of Marshall's from college. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have bothered her, but she was so troubled about her current state of affairs that it was upsetting. She also knew it was her hormones flying from one end to the other, a thought that both comforted and irritated her.

Either Stan didn't notice her blank face, or he didn't care, because he was plainly giddy about his little surprise.

"Well, don't just stand there, inspector!" he boomed. "How are you?"

And inviting himself onto the threshold, he stepped in, promptly taking her kindly in his arms. Mary's feeling of awkwardness increased as she tried to return the favor, but her mind was spinning feverishly because she didn't know if she'd ever hugged Stan in her life.

"I'm…I'm good…" was what she managed, feeding him her best, most practiced pasted-on smile when they parted and she shut the door behind him. "Just…caught off guard. I swear, this kid terminates every brain wave I've got throughout the course of the day," she even laughed.

"You sure I didn't come at a bad time?" he clarified, tipping his chin to look up at her. "Not busy, are you?"

"Not at the moment…" Mary said with just a hint of disdain, mourning her absence from the office a little more with Stan around, gesturing him into the living room.

"I figured Marshall would be working," Stan assumed, fiddling with the buttons on the polo he was wearing as he seated himself on the couch. Mary swept her papers out of the way as he kept talking, "That about right?"

"Yeah; he's working I don't know if he's at the office…" a shrug. "Or if he's out. I think he went to check on one of my kids this afternoon…"

"One of your kids?" Stan inquired, clearly wanting more on that.

Mary gave up her tidying of the coffee table, not liking the way she felt when she had to crouch over her stomach, no desire to have Stan fall witness to such a thing. Instead, she dropped down in one of the chairs to face where he was seated on the sofa.

"Well, I guess he's not a kid anymore…" Mary seemed to be saying this a lot lately when it came to some of her oldest witnesses. "Tripp Sullivan? I don't know if you remember…"

"Not easy to forget!" Stan boomed nostalgically, tone laced with all kinds of fondness. "Mom liked to dabble in men; poor guy missed most of high school trying to keep the little brother and sister in check."

"We'll brush aside how alarming your recall is…" Mary made an attempt at teasing, but it wasn't very well done. "But, yeah. He's out of high school now but mom's still whoring around, so he's doing his part to get the kids through their education. What's killing me is that Maureen isn't making any WITSEC violations, so I can't even bust her ass," she revealed bitterly. "Best I can do is get Marshall to watch out for them until they can…watch out for themselves, I guess."

Stan nodded understandingly, "You miss it?"

Mary would be lying if she said she didn't, but Norah and Robyn and Max and whoever the nameless, faceless creature growing in her uterus turned out to be kept her pretty busy. It was easier not having to hunt down the criminals when you had the litter she often did to take care of.

"Brood keeps me running," was her vague response. "As much as I run anywhere these days."

Now Stan's smile was warm; he was getting that doting look he often did, lounging in the couch, eying her in a fatherly way. It was plain he was tickled pink about being back in town, if just for a few days.

"You're looking good, inspector," he gave a quick nod to her belly. "Feeling as much?"

Mary scoffed, wanting to shoot down his compliment but decided to just let him go on and think what he wanted.

"Not really on my game a hundred percent of the time," she informed him as casually as possible. "But, I'm used to it. It's what happens when you want to spawn at forty-five."

"And, when does uh…?" he waggled his fingers indiscriminately in the direction of her stomach once again. "Little Junior Mann make its appearance?" he was trying to cover up his uneasiness of all-things pregnancy, but the red in his cheeks didn't hide it very well.

As it was, Mary also found herself feeling awkward at the date she had to pin down, "Thanksgiving. I'm scheduled to pop sometime in the week before, but considering how it went with Norah I guess this little heathen could be out by Halloween."

Stan managed a chuckle at this, but the longer they sat there, the more he seemed to clue into the overwhelming change in her. Her sarcasm was fully prevalent, but lighter and more general. She didn't operate with the constant irritation she used to. Mary viewed it as a day-to-day battle to keep herself in line – because of Marshall – but always wondered how long she could manage.

That was why marriage was such a dreadful idea. She'd altered herself in so many capacities to be a better person for the man she loved, but a modification so drastic could push her right back into the sour existence in which she'd once lived. And how could Marshall love that?

"Think you'll go back to work after?" Stan wondered proceeding her pronouncement.

Now it was obvious he was taking advantage of her kinder disposition. She wasn't sure she liked it.

Regardless, "I don't know…" she shook her head and shrugged. "Part of me wants to, but I've gotten used to this. Marshall has me sit in when he can, and I do all his paperwork like some glorified secretary," she chuckled, trying not to sound acidic. "It's the only way we seem to be able to function with the kids and so those asshats over in your department don't come sniffing around about our 'working relationship.'

Stan shifted upward onto his haunches, examining some of Norah's toys that were strewn about the coffee table – mostly baseballs, gloves, or unfinished drawings she'd crayoned while watching television. He continued speaking as he browsed, clearly determined to keep things casual so they didn't get ill at ease. They weren't the best at being alone together.

"I told you, it's not like it's against the rules…"

"Frowned upon, I know…" Mary sighed, using the opportunity to recline further into the chair, wondering if stretching would help the aching in her belly. "I've known for five years."

"It's a sticky situation," Stan agreed, smiling sweetly at one of Norah's pictures before setting it aside to look at another. "D.C. just thinks personal and the office don't mix. I tried to explain you two were a special case…"

"Stan, come on," Mary was slightly nettled by this view, twirling a finger through her hair, which was getting long like the girls'. "Do you have any idea what calling us a 'special case' sounds like? Ugh…" she even made an appropriate noise to go along.

"Well, it seems you've got it pretty well figured out; in any case," Stan observed. "I know Marshall was touched when you started taking leave so he could keep his administrative position," his paternal eyes began to twinkle with this, and Mary felt herself blush, the flush very high in her cheeks.

She'd never thought of her stepping down as somehow noble, and it hadn't been a big deal at first. She'd done everything she always had, but reported to the Denver office from location in Albuquerque. Delia had accompanied her in the field when she'd needed it.

But, as time had progressed and Norah had gotten older – Robyn as well, not to mention Max's arrival – she'd started doing less and less. Marshall's place in the office had been much more vital, and so they'd reinstated Charlie and Mary had faded into the woodwork right around the time she'd found out she was pregnant. Irony – that was all it was.

"Did I say something?" Stan looked befuddled seeing her would-be-unruffled face, furrowing his brow and abandoning the objects on the coffee table.

Mary swallowed and shook her head, "No."

"Are you sure?" he wasn't convinced, and he was a man of extreme law-enforcement caliber; he could spot a fibber.

"I'm fine, Stan…" she whispered. And then, just to appease his worries, "I'm a little under-the-weather today, that's all," adding a smile to make it all seem very flip.

"You should've told me…" the man insisted. "We can meet again tonight if you're up to it."

And he actually made to stand up, but Mary stopped him by doing the same so they were face-to-face, upright in the living room once again.

"No, Stan; it's not a problem…"

But before she could finish, there was the sound of a key in the front door and Mary jumped away from Stan, like they were about to be caught doing something indecent. Fortunately, he was too busy turning his head to see who was coming in to notice her startling. Mary was bewildered; not knowing what would cause Marshall to come home basically in the middle of the afternoon. He'd managed it the day before, and even that was a stretch.

"Mary?" he called upon stepping through, back to the living room in order to get it locked up again.

"You mean you two don't do the whole, 'Honey, I'm home!' bit?" Stan put on a high falsetto. "I'm shocked."

Marshall was shocked too, and took his turn at leaping just by the sound of Stan's voice. But when he managed to get himself rotated all the way around, his face broke into a genuine smile; one that made his blue eyes come alive and his cheekbones lift, giving him the appearance of a man ten years younger. It made Mary's heart elevate just seeing him that way; she knew how much she put him through the wringer.

"Stan the man!" he bellowed, appropriate for the look of glee on his face. "It's good to see you, chief…"

Without further ado, he practically bounded across the room to shake hands and even accept some sort of manly-half-hug, which presented itself when the two of them grasped fingers.

"That's deputy, to you…" Stan teased, mock-serious. "Don't tell me you're _still_ not used to 'chief.' Don't you know how to keep your inspectors in line?" he jerked a thumb at Mary, but smirked to show he was kidding; in any event, Mary wasn't really one of his inspectors anymore. On paper, maybe, but they didn't operate that way.

"They do keep me on my toes, I must admit," Marshall played right along, slinging an arm around Mary's shoulders like they were buddies on the playground or something so juvenile. "Delia seems to have the title down, though."

"You should offer her a raise for that one," Stan suggested. "She calls me up now and again, and from the sound of it she keeps the Sunshine Building running about as well as Eleanor did."

"You say that like it's a compliment…" Mary groused, knowing it was definitely a move she was expected to make.

"Ah, that's our girl…" Stan actually seemed pleased by her reverting; her snarking was something he was used to. "Knew the monster would rear its head eventually."

Mary smiled somewhat modestly, pleased she'd tuned in enough to adopt a part she was so good at playing. It was odd that her former self suddenly felt like more of a mask than her current build. Still, she consistently told herself the semi-polite was the facade, not the other way around.

But, Marshall seemed to sense something was a little off and looked down at her from where his arm still rested around her shoulders. She knew he would guess a lot more quickly than she wanted him to; fighting pain all day had likely made her sallow-faced or sunken.

"What have you been up to?" he asked, starting with something light. "You get Norah dropped off?"

"Brandi took her – she's at Mark's," she clarified for Stan's benefit. "But she'll be back Sunday; can't wait to see you."

"Likewise," Stan grinned. "Girl's a force of nature. Pulls you in even from half a continent away; I tell you."

Marshall was obviously fond of the comparison being made; Norah was his pride and joy, daughter or not. He couldn't help appreciating Stan's devotion to her despite having been away since before her first birthday. The old chief always made the effort; something for which both he and Mary were grateful.

But, Mary was _more_ grateful he chose to leave her well-being aside. It was nice, here like this, and she didn't need for it to end right away.

Reflecting on Stan's statement, Marshall turned to Mary and smiled softly.

"Like mother, like daughter."

XXX

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed Stan's appearance! He'll be back, not to worry! XOXO. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Nothing to say in this set of author's notes! Moving on!**

XXX

Mary's and Marshall's nights were getting a lot more restless anymore, but Mary was almost used to it. She didn't exactly enjoy having so much of her sleep interrupted, but it was basically routine. She wondered if Marshall felt the same way, since he was the one getting up and going up to work every day.

After losing Stan to a conference call with D.C. and rescheduling dinner for the next night so he could have an evening alone with Lia, both Marshals turned in early; further mention of nuptials postponed to an unknown date.

Mary's cell started vibrating around three o'clock, something she didn't notice until she picked it up and squinted at the little lighted screen. She'd also become something of a light dozer and wasn't all together surprised she heard the remote buzzing. She was too concerned with the time to bother with who might be ringing her up, and it resulted in a rather impersonal response when the phone made it to her ear.

"Yeah…"

Her voice was raspy and she was trying to keep her eyes shut. Lying down for an extended period before going to bed had actually made her feel a bit better, and she didn't want to jump-start any of those old aches and pains.

"Hey Mare…" the male on the other end could only be one person now. "I'm sorry about the time; I'm sure you were in bed…"

"Most of us are at three A.M…" was her groggy response to Mark, who sounded much more alert than she was sure she did. "Still am, s'matter of fact," she slurred a little incoherently.

"Well, sorry…" he repeated anyway. "Everything's fine, but Norah had a little nightmare…"

Was there such a thing as a 'little' nightmare? Mary wondered in the back of her mind, hearing Marshall stirring and grunting to her right.

"She okay?" Mary asked, obligatory as it was with a sigh as she rolled onto her back.

"Oh yeah, sure…" Mark had that falsely-bright tone he often adopted when Norah was in the room but he didn't want her to glean something out of his conversation. "But, I think she might feel a little better if she could talk to you for a second. You mind?"

"Hmm mmm…" she hummed indistinctly, thinking Mark would probably get the gist. "Put her on…"

Marshall came to while the phone was being transferred and his voice was, if possible, even thicker than hers had been. It sounded like he'd swallowed a mouthful of cotton; he was definitely out-of-it, but determined to do his part.

"Who is it?" he murmured drowsily, also turning over so he was facing her on her back now.

"Norah…" she replied, still with her eyes shut. But then she shook her head, "Mark, I mean…" she corrected herself. "Norah had a bad dream…"

Whatever Marshall's response to that was, Mary didn't hear it because her daughter's tiny little timbre floated through the phone. It was hung high, fraught like someone trying to balance on eggshells or walk on the railroad tracks. Norah's social independence was pretty unrivaled; she could amuse herself for hours all by herself and loved it. But, when it came to the shadows and fears she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up and told she was safe.

"Mommy?"

Mary worked very hard not to sound too tired, "Hi love…"

"I waked you up?" she whispered, reversing her tense as any six-year-old was known to do.

"You woke me up, yes…" Mary was honest in trying to school her on proper grammar. "But I don't need to be sleeping my life away. Sleeping's for when you're growing; and when you're old like me you can shake off all the resting up. I mean, you've seen me, Bug…" she even worked a little bit of a joke in there. "Do I look like I need to do anymore growing?"

Norah gave a shaky giggle, "Your belly's only bigger 'cause of the baby. That's what dad and Marshall and Brandi say…"

"Better watch their mouths too; like I need to be reminded," she teased, careful to sound just slightly cheerful among her scorn. "So, what'd you see tonight, anyway?" she segued. "How bad was this dream? Monster-octopus bad or fall-off-the-cliff bad?"

She could hear Norah sniffling, like maybe she wanted the pep-talk but was now a little embarrassed about having asked for it. She got that way sometimes; caught in limbo by how old she was versus how old she seemed. She wanted to be big, brave, and tough but her childlike qualities always forced their way through. She was only six, after all.

Hearing the indecision and uncertainty even just by the silence, Mary knew she didn't want her daughter to be ashamed.

"Norah, what was it?" she lowered her voice and finally opened her eyes. "Don't be afraid to tell me. Whatever it was wasn't real."

Mary even heard the gulp that meant words were on their way, "I dreamed that this big dog was chasing me – he looked like the one that lives in the house by school; the big black one…"

"Yeah…"

"And the dog was gonna catch me and he had really sharp teeth…" she went on, painting the picture for her mother. "But he didn't 'cause somebody saved me, only then the dog ate _him_ instead…"

"'Him' who, Bug?" Mary couldn't resist asking, even though she was pretty sure she knew where this was going.

The smallest of shudders sounded without the presence of actual tears, "Marshall."

Mary did not entirely take this to heart. Norah often had nightmares such as these; the victims were different in all of them. She could guess that after having heard them argue the other night, her daughter's subconscious had taken her that direction. It didn't mean anything, and in any case, Norah was already plunging onward after her confession.

"I know it wasn't real, mom, but it really looked like it…"

"Dreams are no fun that way," Mary conceded. And then, the offer she knew she needed to make, "Would you like to talk to Marshall?"

The sounds were different now – they were ones of hope that the morning dawn might bring comprehension; comprehension that was hard to cover in the dark.

"Uh-huh," was Norah's acceptance of the suggestion.

"Okay; give me a second…" Mary told her. "I love you, N. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay…"

It was possible Marshall had started to drift off again, and Mary gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow – a sharper one than he deserved, most likely. But, it was harder when she refused to sit up and she had to grope to find his body in the dark.

"What?" he groaned into his pillow.

"Have a word or two with Norah, would you?" Mary requested thickly.

Marshall didn't even ask for an explanation, just flung his hand up over his back, waggling his fingers all over and waiting for Mary to press the cell to his palm. He closed in, feeling the smoothness of the phone, and nearly dropped it once before pulling it around to his side and pressing the speaker to his ear.

In the split second before he said something, he prepared himself; mentally, he talked himself out of sounding sleepy, annoyed, exhausted, or even frankly aloof. It was how Marshall worked with witnesses who needed him. He could certainly give Norah just as good or better.

"Howdy and happy morning to you, champ…" he sang brightly.

When he rotated onto his back, he could see half of Mary's face and she was kind enough to offer him a gentle pat on his shoulder before facing the wall once more. It was a gesture of gratitude; one he recognized.

"Hi Marshall," Norah sounded a little beaming as well; his voice might be just the trick she needed.

"You know, gorgeous, I am continually amazed by how clever your imagination is," he praised sweetly, rubbing his eyes with his fingers in an attempt to stay awake. "What incredible story did it cook up this evening? It must have been something pretty astonishing for it to frighten you."

He waited while she explained about the dog, the teeth, and the rescue, falling back on some of his psychology classes from college about analyzing dreams. Unfortunately, he was too tired to remember much at this moment and opted for logic instead.

"Typically, Norah, it is difficult for a being smaller than its meal to be devoured…"

She balked, "What?"

Marshall watered down hearing the sigh to his left, "I'm bigger than any dog. It would be awful tough for one to eat me and, in any case, it's not usually in their nature unless they're trained a certain way. Does that make more sense?"

"Yes…" Norah sounded just a little self-conscious now. "Did you ever have a dog, Marshall?"

An easy question, "Mmm hmm; I sure did. In fact, I had one a couple months before you were born – mom gave him to me."

"Mom gave you a dog?" she was clearly surprised. "Why?"

"Well, since she was getting ready for you to come along she thought a mutt might be too much," he explained, which was mostly the truth. "Someone needed to foster him – keep him until he could get a better home – and I won out," a little bit of a fabrication now.

Fortunately, Norah didn't ask what had happened or where the dog was now, for which Marshall was grateful. He didn't relish having to sunny up abandoning the canine in hopes of making Abigail feel better. Norah knew he and Mary hadn't been together when she was born, but she didn't know about Abigail. He wondered if she ever would.

"What was his name?" was her only question.

Marshall was more than happy to oblige, "Oscar."

Norah gave an innocent, playful giggle, "That's a silly name."

"Well then, mom and I will have to scratch that one off our list when it comes time to name the baby."

With that, Marshall was able to ward off the inquiries, the concerns, and the fears in favor of the fatigued, late-night yawns that came through the phone, signaling Norah was settled for the night. After many a 'goodnight' and 'I love you,' the girl was telling him Mark needed a quick word with Mary before they all sunk back into their pillows.

It was Marshall's turn to clap her shoulder and hand the phone over, prompting an irritated moan upon hearing it was Mark. However, he was pleased when she snuggled into his curve, face buried part-way into his chest. He could tell by the way she was holding herself she'd gotten uncomfortable again and was trying to alleviate it by pressing so close.

"What?" Mary mumbled, liking the feel of Marshall's hands on her back.

"Mare…" Mark sounded sympathetic, maybe even pitying, but resolute. There was definitely something on his mind. "Hang on a minute…" his voice turned tinny and far-away as he spoke to his daughter in the background. "I'll be there in a second; I'm just saying goodnight to mommy…"

Mary exhaled slowly, trying to bask in the warmth of Marshall's chest. She knew she wasn't hiding her agitation very well, a point he proved by whispering softly from above.

"You all right?"

"Yeah…" she lied. And then, to Mark when he returned, "Yeah. What? I'm here."

"Thanks for doing this…"

There was more, she could tell, and nudged him on, "Whatever."

"Mary…" it was on its way now. "I'm worried about her," his tone dropped significantly like Norah might still be nearby. "Is she…okay? Is there something going on I don't know about?" he wasn't accusatory, which was smart of him if he wanted to keep all his limbs; he was lucky Mary was drowsy.

"Nothing's going on…" she wondered if she'd be able to succumb to sleep with him still on the phone; she was going into a trance. "She's fine."

"But, why is she so jittery?" Mark persisted. "Have you noticed?"

Mary had noticed, but she also knew the reason for the sudden withdrawal, which was Norah's unbridled disquiet over the argument from the night before. Mark didn't need to know about that, and it wasn't so severe. Just at night, when she'd had a hard day of playing; otherwise, she was the same kid she'd always been.

"I told you, she's fine," Mary was trying hard not to get angry, knowing if she got riled she'd never go back to sleep. "Mark, you know how self-sufficient she is sometimes; she likes to be by herself…"

"But, this isn't like that," he corrected her. "She's been doing her thing, her 'alone' thing, whatever you're calling it, which was all good. But earlier, before dinner, she was asking me these questions about you and me and when we were married…"

Okay, this was disconcerting. It was definitely vital Marshall not discover _that_, and it certainly didn't need to be beaten to death at three in the morning.

"…Asking if we're friends…"

Even weirder. Norah had never expressed interest in Mary and Mark being a couple, so it couldn't be anywhere near that.

"I can't figure her out," Mark concluded. "Do you think this could be because of the baby or something?" he ventured wildly. "Is she jealous?"

"She's not jealous," Mary refuted, thinking this was a dumb resolution, but she didn't say so. "Really Mark, I think she's fine."

Mary knew what she was doing as she breathed in every inch of Marshall she could, reveling in this moment, knowing another argument was likely down the pike somewhere in the near future. She knew her claiming Norah was perfectly okay was her way of saying _she_ was perfectly okay – to ward off any doubt an outsider might have.

She'd figure out her daughter. They'd find a way to make it work. Marriage wasn't the only solution.

XXX

**A/N: It builds! Mary's fighting tooth and nail; it's what she does. ;) **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks to those who are reviewing. I'm trying to give back as best I can on the reviews; I want them so badly for myself, but I'm not very good about returning them. Gotta give to get sometimes! Hopefully it can't hurt. ;)**

XXX

Saturday afternoon with no children put Mary in the doctor's office, not because of her helter-skelter insides, but because it had come time for her periodic appointment. Although Doctor Reese's office wasn't traditionally open on the weekends, she knew of Mary's and Marshall's situation regarding law enforcement. Saturday was one of the few hopes they had at getting both of them in attendance at the same time, and she was willing to bend the rules. Mary secretly thought her high-risk nature because she was so old might also have something to do with it, but there was no need to bring that up.

This visit, however, found Mary extremely nervous. She'd been working tirelessly to conceal her ailments from Marshall so he wouldn't bring them up to the OBGYN. Mary _knew_ it was the tension – she didn't need to be told. She also didn't need Marshall thinking he'd originated said tension, at least as far as her gut was concerned. She gave him enough problems.

Regardless, she couldn't hide everything stationed in bed and stirrups while Marshall paced casually about the room while they waited. He was about to ask his very favorite question, Mary was sure of it.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded convincingly, "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, there are an entire host of possibilities…" he dictated, pausing in step.

"What; just because some near-stranger is about to poke her fingers where they absolutely – no matter who you are – do not belong," she ventured a guess, sick of his hovering. "Why would that bother me?"

Marshall knew she was being sarcastic, but still chose to answer, "Might bother me."

"Sure it would…" Mary grumbled with still more mockery, scoffing under her breath and shifting sideways in bed in an attempt to get comfortable, which was futile at best.

Her man offered a different topic of discussion at the disdain, which was intelligent; he certainly knew this was not a moment to goad her.

"Mark's taking Norah to that water park today, right?"

"I think so," Mary shrugged casually, just glad they were on neutral ground at the moment; it meant she didn't have to think or watch herself.

"That'll wear her out nicely," Marshall decided. "Should make an easier night for him."

"For us too," Mary couldn't help pointing out; the evening prior was proof that when Norah had a hard night, they all did regardless of whether or not they were in the same house.

"I wonder if she ended up leaving Robyn out," he mused thoughtfully, a voiced opinion that spiked Mary's ire more than she thought it might.

"She didn't _leave her out_, Marshall," she emphasized, attempting to sound firm and not angry. "You know what a trip Robyn is; Norah wanted Mark to herself, there's nothing wrong with that…"

"I'm not saying there is," he appeared a little startled at the agitation and backed down at once, still standing sentry where he'd stopped before. "I just…wondered…" he shrugged. "Hence the, 'I wonder.'"

Mary opened her mouth to retort, hating being all laid bare like this, always annoyed when people made independence seem like a bad thing, when the opportunity to bite back escaped. Doctor Reese entered with a knock and a cheerful hello, bearing her usual clipboard and pen. Marshall cleared his throat and stepped to the head of the bed like he was getting into position. Like nothing else mattered right now.

"Afternoon, you two…" the good doctor called with her appearance. "Enjoying your weekend?" she made chit-chat, pocketing one of her pens and flipping papers on the clipboard.

Marshall was the one who was good at small talk, "It has been a quiet one so far. We have a friend visiting for a few days, so we are looking forward to catching up."

"Summertime can be so nice that way…" Doctor Reese agreed. Looking up, she saw her patient looking so shifty and otherwise silent, and so opted to break the ice. "Mary, how's Norah?"

Mary swallowed, wanting to seem as in control as it was possible to be in this situation. She used to be a master at keeping her emotions off her face. In the last few days alone, she'd been failing miserably.

"Good…" a nod. "She's fine; starts first grade in September."

"Making me feel old, Mary," the woman teased, sliding the clipboard onto the counter and rolling a stool over to sit on. The mere motion made Mary's heartbeat quicken; she really hated going to the doctor, and hated herself even more for being so fearful of something that was supposed to be routine. "And Robyn? She doing well too?"

"Colorful as ever," Marshall chimed in on this one. "Only appropriate, considering her delivery I would think."

"One of my most memorable," Doctor Reese claimed with a fond smile, not bothering to hide her disbelief at such a thing. "If Norah's going to be in first grade, then Robyn should be in kindergarten, right?"

"Correct you are," Marshall said in his typical gentlemanly way. "They'll be tearing up the town one of these days."

The doctor laughed at this, knowing it was best to be nonchalant while she did her thing with Mary, snapping on gloves and adjusting the sheet that covered her lower half. She rarely enjoyed the run-down of the examination, and while she didn't like being caught off guard, knowing what was coming was almost worse. She was not the best patient in the world when it came to pregnancy.

And unfortunately, the first moment she dreaded was upon them, "Let me check you real quick, Mary, breathe deep for me…"

Doing as told in this department never seemed to help much, especially as Mary knew she was really going to have to reel in whatever discomfort she might feel. Her threshold was low with all the cramps she was having, and had the feeling it was going to prickle more than usual.

But, as luck would have it, Marshall abandoned whatever slight he'd felt after being snapped at and nudged himself closer to her. The hand on her shoulder was all she needed. The kiss on her hair didn't hurt either.

"Good…hang tight…" Doctor Reese instructed just before she swept a place that made her jump; she tried to pull it inward, but it didn't matter.

She also couldn't stop the phrase that slipped out, "Shit…" it was hushed, under her breath, but Marshall definitely heard even as she tried exhaling again to cover it up.

"Sorry Mary; I must've hit a bad spot…" it was over as quickly as it had come.

"You good?" Marshall prompted when her eyes flickered to life again, jostling her shoulder with his palm to keep her loose.

"Yeah…" her voice was a little breathy, but she was pretty certain she sounded at least somewhat self-assured.

She really didn't like this. She was feeling vulnerable enough lately, and this particular appointment had not come at a good time. She felt like she was about to cry, and she didn't even know why. This impending maybe-marriage with Marshall was throwing her completely off-balance, mostly because no matter how wonderful he was, she didn't feel any differently. She couldn't take that leap; nothing changed her mind.

"The nurse's reports from your pre-exam look healthy, Mary," Doctor Reese was still chattering as she moved to bring in the ultrasound. "So, you're on the right track. Let's set you up with a picture here; get a good look before we boot you out…" she offered a smile, knowing how this woman could be.

"You want to see a picture, don't you?" Marshall asked brightly, obviously trying to cheer her up, or at least get the blank and unsettled look off her face.

All she could manage was a nod. There was no way she could cry. Marshall wouldn't have a clue what had prompted it, and it would make everything a thousand times messier. There was no reason to go into that minefield.

As it was, he made polite conversation with her while Doctor Reese commenced in getting them set up, joined by a nurse which she paged at the front desk.

"You ever think about bringing Norah in to get a look?" he asked curiously. "Hear the heartbeat and all? It might interest her."

"I think it would interest Robyn more," Mary groused, noting how croaky her voice sounded. "You know, she's dying to feel this kid kick and I've got nothing for her."

"Ah, she'll manage it before landing time…" Marshall waved an indistinct hand, unconcerned. "Little one moves around enough as it is."

"She thinks it – he, she – doesn't like her," Mary reflected on her niece's words from the day before. "Robyn, I mean. She thinks the baby doesn't like her," she clarified, realizing how muddled her first sentence came out.

"Well, even the possibility of being unliked sends Robyn into a tizzy," Marshall reminded her philosophically. "We've known that since she was born."

And why was that? Mary couldn't help wondering. Why did Robyn – and the rest of the world for that matter – crave being liked? She only needed one to return the feeling of fondness to keep her from going off the deep end.

"I wish she wouldn't run her hands all over my stomach," she couldn't help bringing up in a low voice. "It's bizarre; who knows what the hell people think when they see something like that…"

The stomach in question became cold when exposed to the surrounding air and Mary shifted upward so they could get at her easier to perform the sonogram. Her newly-swollen feet were starting to become sore barricaded into the stirrups and she wiggled her toes trying to relieve some of the sensation.

Marshall, meanwhile, was still talking, "She's little, Mare; she's curious," he referred to Robyn's fascination with the bump. "She doesn't remember when Max was born like Norah does. You have to admit, it's quite a phenomenon."

"Not gonna hear me admitting anything of the kind," Mary grumped, raking her fingers through her hair to let out some of her still-present nervous energy. "See how you feel when you're carting around a watermelon twenty-four-seven and hurling your guts up just from smelling scrambled eggs…"

"Well, the miracle of nature has not yet afforded me such an opportunity," Marshall dictated. "But, don't give up hope. Science is doing amazing things these days."

Fortunately, the telltale sign of the baby's heartbeat impaired Mary's ability to come back at him for such a remark, and she whipped her head around to face the screen. The steady _thump-thump _seemed louder this time, although she was sure that wasn't the case. The same familiar movements persisted across the display; the rhythmic swish-swish back and forth of black and white. But, Mary was surprised to find she might not need the doctor's help in locating her child anymore. There was a defined body and head, even what she thought might be a nose clearly exhibited in front of her.

Marshall was smiling and abandoned his discussion to give the image of their child his full attention, wand navigating side-to-side on Mary's belly.

"There's the little tumbler…" Doctor Reese announced, pointing out the figures anyway. "Took me a second. Kid was flipping around a bit when we first set up."

"Yeah, last thing we need is another backwards delivery," Mary mumbled pessimistically, but underneath she was trying to conceal the grin wanting to escape at seeing her child.

"Way too early to be worrying about that," the doctor laughed. "The baby has a lot more space to move around at six months than at nine," she explained with a hearty, knowledgeable nod from Marshall. "Do you feel a lot of movement, Mary? Lot of kicking?"

"More movement then kicking…" the expectant mother was forced to admit; knowing she missed kicks thinking they were cramps, or vise versa. "I guess," she added on lamely, trying to make it sound as though it were not especially important.

Marshall did not have the same feeling and was plainly keen for more information.

"Is that an arm?" he mapped out what looked to be a limb crossed in front of the body. "Down in front?"

"Yep…" Doctor Reese nodded approvingly. "That looks to be an arm; the other is probably on its side here…" she crossed her fingers down a curve in the middle of the torso. "You can see the legs here…"

They weren't hard to miss once you knew where the arms were, Mary thought. Marshall was plainly enraptured and she bit on her lip to keep from becoming emotional once again. As much as she enjoyed getting a glimpse of her child, she couldn't help wanting to flee. Her overload of sentiment was much too raw right now; there was no telling what might come out at this moment.

"How's our little offspring looking?" the man asked next. "More than visually speaking…" he gestured at the image, still grinning goofily. "Physically? Healthy as a horse?" he was awfully chatty.

Doctor Reese noticed, "Everything looks great," she nodded at him with a chuckle. "The heartbeat is nice and strong, seems like there's as much movement as there should be for twenty-six weeks, although that should start to die down some as you're nearing your third trimester, Mary…" she finally addressed the pregnant one, as if just noticing her and Marshall had been doing all the talking.

She nodded, not sure what else to say, focusing on the picture in front of her. It still seemed incredible sometimes. When she'd been pregnant with Norah, she'd treated the entire process as a nuisance; she hadn't stopped to enjoy it. In the here and now, it was sometimes baffling to her that the free-floating being on the monitor was really the same one tossing around in her belly.

"Now, I know we've been through this, you two…" the doctor continued, shifting subjects slightly. "But I always make sure to ask couples at each appointment just in case they've changed their minds. I know on our last visit you weren't interested in knowing the sex. Still holding firm on ambiguity?"

The nurse had slowed the scoping her wand was doing on Mary's stomach and Marshall took pause at the question, turning from his position inches from the screen to look at Mary. She sighed, knowing they were divided on this issue. She'd been avoiding finding out the gender because it just didn't seem to make any difference – it was what it was; knowing now or later wasn't going to change that. Marshall had been almost boyishly eager to know, but had given up the ghost seeing Mary wasn't much of a fan.

He was stepping up toward her head now, and she chewed on her lower lip trying to decide if this was the time to do this – with everything else going on.

"Do you need to know?" she asked, trying to sound even and merely questioning.

"Well…" Marshall shrugged. "I don't _need_ to know, no. But, it might be nice," he offered. "Would be nice to have something to tell the girls," he always referred to Norah and Robyn as though they were both his. "And, we could can all this, 'it' business. Confirm it's not an alien or a monkey or a meteorite or something," now he was trying to make light.

Mary considered. Norah likely wouldn't have much of a reaction to the sex of the baby – it was a situation she'd come to accept one way or the other, even though she claimed to hope for a boy. Robyn would have conniptions regardless of which way it went.

But, it wasn't for them that Mary contemplated. She was withholding a lot from Marshall lately, and knew she was likely going to keep doing it. She could give him this. This one thing. Before she took everything else away.

"Okay…" her voice was theatrically soft as she whispered and tried to nod, knowing she sounded more uncertain than she'd meant to.

Marshall picked up on it, "Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh…" she didn't want him to ask a ton of times and tried bobbing her head up and down again.

"You don't sound very sure," he insisted.

"Marshall, I'm sure," she nearly interrupted, knowing she really would back down and start sniping if he continued to push. "Honest. Let's hear it."

Fortunately, he finally took her words to heart and turned around for the verdict. In doing so, he picked up her hand, which was lying limp on the bed and squeezed it. She didn't want to be one of those couples that clutched at their pearls in this supposedly monumental moment, but liked to think Marshall had initiated the contact as a way of saying thank-you. For that reason, she was accepting and squeezed gently back, liking his long and lean form securely beside and above her.

"What's it gonna be?" Marshall asked of the room at large to confirm their decision. "Not an alien, monkey, or meteorite, I hope," he fell back on his joke from earlier.

"Haven't seen one yet in my time…" Doctor Reese told him and then, to her nurse, "Rotate over – down and to the left just a little – I want to make sure."

It was a long twenty seconds, Mary thought, as she sat there and tried to prepare herself for whatever she was about to be told. It really didn't matter to her; she had boys or girls either way when you considered how much time she spent with Max. But, she'd never had this flash before – this feeling of high anticipation that could never be replaced. The stable sound of the heartbeat persisted through the silence while Doctor Reese got her verification.

And, she was good. When she figured it out, the words just came. She knew Mary wasn't into schmaltzy instances, beating around the bush, or big reveals. She simply smiled and was completely straightforward.

"Girl."

Marshall was much less understated. His mouth fell part way open and his grip on Mary's hand went slack.

"Girl?" the first letter almost didn't make it out, he was so breathless. "It's a girl?"

"It is," she nodded, solid and sound. "Congratulations."

Marshall's mind was obviously catching up with his surprise, because he began to breathe a little easier – and also a little louder. The breaths turned into laughs; joyous, pure, and plain. Mary didn't know what to think, shocked by how quickly such a thing had come to her attention. She was looking at the picture differently now, trying to imagine it being female. Norah was going to have a sister. Poor Max, forever and always, would be alone in his camp; three girls to kick him around for life.

"How sure are you?" Marshall babbled, out of unadulterated curiosity, Mary could tell. "I mean, obviously, it's harder to tell when there's not…"

Doctor Reese cut him off, "Pretty sure, Marshall," a genuine grin to accompany it. "Even with boys, there's always a chance we're wrong. But, I saw what I needed to; I promise, I am as certain as I can legitimately be."

This was all the reassurance Marshall needed and he finally looked to Mary with a face lined in so much beauty, she could hardly believe it. The bliss in his features was indescribable; blue eyes bright, smile wide and gaping, and fingers tickling in her hand out of wholesome delight.

"I'm going to have a daughter," he proclaimed, just like the man in some horrific romantic comedy.

But, it didn't matter. It did the trick. Mary had been fighting it all through the appointment, but those words did her in. He'd been more than a second father to Norah, now he was going to have his own, and had the look of a little kid at Christmas. With all of that wrapped into one, Mary couldn't hang on any longer.

She started to cry; trickles at first, eyes that shone with wetness. The more she tried to hold it in, the worse it became. Her nose began to run, and she nodded and turned away, hoping he wouldn't notice. This meant Doctor Reese did, but she was quick and clean.

"You know Mary, I've gotta get your paperwork from the nurse's desk…" she stood, shoving her stool back to the counter. "Why don't I go do that right quick? I'll just be a second…"

Mary loved that she hadn't done the classic, 'I'll give you a minute alone' business; it would've been embarrassing. But, she was gone nonetheless and so was the nurse, the only sound the beat of their little girl's heart. Marshall put his arm around Mary's shoulder and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head in his blundering elation. A big sniffle proceeded this gesture, cluing him into the sap she was becoming.

"Mary…?" he was forced to back away to get a better look, and she made the mistake of trying to dab at her eyes. "What? Are you upset? Are you upset that we found out?"

She shook her head, "No." She needed to get it together and swallowed to appear more certain, "No. I'm not. It doesn't matter." She didn't like how that sounded and rephrased, cursing herself for how incoherent she became when her emotions got the better of her. "I mean…I just – I don't care that we found out – it's not…" this was getting confusing. "I'm not mad. That's all I meant."

"I knew what you meant," he assured her kindly, downgrading to squeezing her shoulder as a means to comfort. "Just a lot all at once, or what?" he gestured at the tears once more.

This was a good out, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's it," she said hoarsely.

"Okay…" he accepted the response and pressed his lips to her temple to tell her as much. "Are you happy?" he asked, of the decision to uncover the child, she assumed.

"Yeah…" she shrugged.

She was so many things. She was happy to have another Norah to raise. She was happy to have Marshall to raise her with. But, mostly she was frustrated. She was frustrated that no matter how deep she and Marshall became, her feelings stayed the same. She loved him so much, and yet marrying him still terrified her. It terrified her that she could become who she once was, that she could let him down, and that she couldn't live up to this vision of her he'd held onto for so many years. It was just like James; being unable to act as Superwoman at seven years old.

She wondered if he'd ever had this feeling – if he'd ever experienced even half the ecstasy on Marshall's face at hearing he had a daughter.

"Yeah…" she repeated herself. "I'm happy…"

The word was so far from what she was feeling; it wasn't nearly big enough, and what she felt was a lie came spilling out as more tears. They were making her cheeks feel hot, making her feel very exposed.

"I don't know what's wrong with me…" she blubbered thickly, shaking her head trying to ward it all away.

Marshall was sympathetic, thinking she was talking about her off-the-chart hormones making her weep, and he pulled her into his arms again. The smile hadn't left; he was still beaming ear-to-ear even as he tried to help.

"Shh…" he almost seemed amused by the bout of emotion. "It's okay," he promised brightly. "Don't cry. I love you so much, Mary," another pledge. "Thank-you for giving me this."

She hoped he enjoyed it, Mary thought as she got herself under control in his embrace. She didn't know how much else she had left to give.

XXX

**A/N: I'm not sure how many stories there are in the fan-fic universe that have Mary pregnant with a second child that is Marshall's, but I know that even when I first started this sequel, I was certain I wanted the baby to be a girl. It just seemed to fit with the rest of the tale from the get-go; my only debate was whether or not to have the duo find out ahead of time as I was writing. But, it seemed to work with the progression.**

**Now, the only question is…the road to acceptance for Mary? Or the calm before the storm? Hope you'll keep reading to find out! **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: We may be a little over halfway through, but it all starts here. :D**

XXX

Although the news that Mary and Marshall had merged and created a baby girl was mammoth to them, it became slightly lackluster when they didn't end up telling anyone until the next evening; Sunday night. Mary insisted she couldn't tell Jinx or Brandi until she could tell Norah, because one or both of them would tell Robyn, who was sure to blab all over town. Once it was out to her daughter, they could shout it from the rooftops if they were so inclined.

And so, the first people who found out came in the form of Stan and Lia, halfway through Sunday evening dinner at the house. They'd been forced to reschedule once again; Stan's absence from D.C. was missed and he spent a lot of time on conference call or webcam sorting things out. But, an early meal Sunday night worked itself out, just a few hours before Mark was due to drop Norah back off.

They'd had a much more extravagant spread than usual in favor of the guests; Marshall had made salads, some sort of chicken with sauce and rice, and even bought a key lime pie for dessert. They'd just been starting on the chicken when he was unable to hold it in any longer.

"Mary and I got some interesting news yesterday…" he began, sliding his arm around her back from where they sat side-by-side at the island across from Stan and Lia.

"What was yesterday?" Stan asked curiously, taking a sip of wine and offering some to his lady love in the process.

Mary was busy spearing her chicken and decided not to listen, thinking Marshall probably had this covered.

"Mary had an appointment at the OBGYN…" he smashed all five letters together like the cornball he was, making his girl scowl. It earned a laugh from Stan and Lia, but Lia was more interested in the timing than in Marshall's cleverness.

"On a Saturday!" she exclaimed in the passionate way she spoke about practically everything. "Remind me to hook up with her if we end up having little Stanley's running around…" she nudged the man's elbow and he went brilliantly red just at the idea, giving Marshall his chance to laugh.

"And what happened at this appointment?" Stan raised his voice to be heard over the chortling, truly caught between a rock and a hard place. There was pregnancy at every corner on this one; no way out.

"Well, my gorgeous woman here decided to cut me some slack…" Marshall declared, pecking her cheek briefly, and Mary decided to let him. "And determined we could find out the sex of our little Junior Mann."

Lia gasped hungrily, "Oh, how exciting!" she was zealous, not theatrical like Jinx, which Mary appreciated. "What are we having?" it was kind of her to include herself amongst their trio. "Little bambino or bambina?"

"We might try those on for size when it comes to names," Mary chimed in, her mouth full of both rice and chicken. "Beats that trendy crap they come up with these days."

"Oh, Mary you are so right," Lia affirmed with an emphatic point of her finger. "A child needs a fervent…bold name!" now this was getting a little silly; Mary began to wonder how Stan kept up with this woman. "Something that will withstand all these fads – Colby and Blaire and all those ridiculous spellings," now she was waving her hand. "Shame we are getting away from the classics."

"Stan, you don't need us around," was Mary's response. "Here's your dinner entertainment right here."

"Knows how to hold a crowd, doesn't she?" Stan proclaimed proudly, obviously even more delighted that Mary was taking so humanely to his date.

Meanwhile, Marshall was finding it difficult to pretend he wasn't let-down by his big announcement getting shuffled to the side and cleared his throat to regain attention.

"Someday we're gonna give my _daughter_ credit where credit is due, right?"

His words had exactly the magic he'd hoped they would. The conversation ceased at once and Mary smirked, oddly pleased she'd had to make him work for it; it was worth it now that it was out in the open. Lia let out a second gasp and Stan laughed benevolently, reaching for his wine glass once more. The chatter prompted was a little jumbled now, but it wasn't so bad.

"Oh, fantastic!" that was Lia.

"Congratulations, inspector…" Stan lifted his glass to Marshall.

"I only get half the glory on this one…" Marshall was still unable to resist puffing out his chest. "Although, technically speaking, it is the male who contributes an X or a Y chromosome, rather than a single X…"

"Doofus, we are _eating_," Mary finally spoke up to get him to quiet on his usual wealth of knowledge. "Not exactly dinner table conversation with the way my gut's been lately."

Stan and Lia chortled loudly once again, but Marshall closed his mouth and resorted to clinking a glass with Stan in celebration. Lia was so excited she was patting Mary's hand from across the island, chattering about a mile a minute. She reminded Mary a little bit of Raph's Aunt Rita; so audacious and uninhibited about everything.

Stan, however, seemed to sense that his girlfriend's attitude was maybe something Mary wasn't used to and flashed her a little bit of a sheepish smile amongst the bedlam. She grinned back to show she understood and felt her heart waver in her ribcage seeing Stan elevate his glass just one more time, understated in her direction.

"Now you can really start planning, yes?" Lia wanted to know, not even noticing the exchange. "Although, I suppose your Norah will have a few hand-me-downs to give to her sister."

"Probably, yeah…" Mary admitted with a nod.

"Is she excited?" Stan cut in, trying to help Mary out with his lively woman.

"I don't know if excited would be the word," Mary shrugged; taking a sip of water and wishing it were wine. "Babies aren't really her thing. But, she's good with it. I think Robyn is probably more excited than she is."

"Oh, I cannot wait to see her; sounds like she would be a perfect candidate for my tango…" Lia declared mischievously, knowing all her and Stan had been told about Robyn.

"Norah will be a great sister," Marshall got back on that. "It'll be good for her too; she's kind of a loner. Having another kid around the house so often might encourage her to break out a little bit."

Mary gulped hard trying not to let this statement upset her, "She's not really a loner," she said it to their guests, not Marshall, feeling her face grow warm since she'd just had this conversation with him the day before. "She's independent. She doesn't need a whole crowd of people to give her something to do, is all."

"Self-governing," Stan nodded, obviously sensing the tension, having been privy to it for so many years. "I would say that's a trait most adults don't have," he even tried to laugh.

Mary nodded, grateful for the effort Stan was making, "She gets her kicks in with Robyn and Max," she continued. "She's got no problem with other kids."

She hoped this signaled the case closed, but the curve ball that came spiraling and spinning around the corner about knocked her clear off her stool. It was so unexpected she practically got whiplash; the horror with which it presented itself was jarring, disorienting, and staggering all rolled into one.

"Well, she must be thrilled you two will be getting married soon," Lia obviously thought she was loosening the strain, but it was going to have the exact opposite effect. "Stanley has told me how much she just adores you, Marshall."

Mary didn't know what made her do it. Just, that she'd already been making herself sick over this. She was already irritated with Marshall for acting in any way like Norah's secluded nature was a bad thing. She'd already wanted to put this on the back burner, wishing and hoping for it every night. But, most of all she didn't know where Lia and Stan had gotten wind of it – for Stan's face of complete unsurprise was enough to tell her he'd been clued in. Having this discussion with guests over was too much. It broke her in two and she ran far – she ran fast. Away, up the hill, and out of sight.

"Married?" she scoffed so convincingly she fooled even herself. "No," now she laughed like the whole thing was beyond brainless, shaking her head. "No. Please. We're not getting married."

Boy, she was good. She sounded just as she had years ago, mocking the absurdity of others. She'd done it. She'd gone back just as she'd feared she would.

"Really…?" Stan shifted upward in his seat, obviously noticing the glaring contrast between Marshall's look of shell-shock and Mary's ridicule. "Marshall mentioned there might be something going down around Thanksgiving – maybe early December…"

"We have talked about that…" Marshall backed him up, but Mary didn't miss the hurt in his voice; she had seared him good with the way she'd shut him down, point blank, for the first time since this nightmare had started. "About Thanksgiving, I mean…"

"It would be a beautiful time to have a wedding," Lia chimed in. "Gorgeous fall weather…"

"I'm due at Thanksgiving," Mary butted in, shoveling in about half her chicken that was left in one forkful. "It's not a good time."

"Well, I'm not…I'm not ruling it out…" Marshall was obviously determined to stand up for himself, but did not want to make a scene in front of Stan and Lia. Mary didn't really care how she sounded anymore; she was pissed as hell he'd told Stan something that was blatantly untrue. "I think it might still be a possibility; once we get things squared away with the baby, and we'll have Jinx to help out…"

"Jinx will be working," Mary said snidely, definitely annoyed with his prattling. "We won't have time. I'll have to stay home with Norah and this kid and God only knows what Brandi and Peter are going to be haranguing at that point…"

"Maybe in the spring, then…" Stan obviously sensed they had traipsed into a minefield and wanted to stop this before they got any further. "No harm in pushing it out a little bit; you'll just have to see where the wind takes you," Lia was having quite the effect on his philosophical side.

"Yes," Marshall said in a small voice that did not entirely bury the anger Mary could hear there. "I suppose that's true."

"We will be there with bells on, either way," Lia declared, thinking her cheerfulness might perk everyone up, but now Mary wished she'd shut up. What had been charming before was suddenly obnoxious, and she didn't know if it was Marshall's spilling the beans or her usual hormones that were causing the shift in mood.

"Not sure I will," Mary muttered under her breath to the bells comment, knowing she was being awful but acting so terrible was masking her insecurities.

The hush was loud among Mary's pronouncement, not even punctuated by the clinking of forks or glasses. This was a _disaster_. It was Raph and Rita and Jinx all over again; Raph sitting there saying they could get married on the Fourth of July and her left like some stupid sitting duck not having a clue what he was talking about.

Marshall's response was very tight, "We obviously have not pinned anything down yet," he offered a meager half-smile to Stan and Lia, Mary's head buried in wolfing down the rest of her food.

"Sure…" Stan nodded as though he expected as much, but it was clear he was trying to fill the quiet. "Sure…"

They didn't last long after that. Stan and Lia exchanged looks for about five minutes in finishing their meals, trying to manage the stony silence between Mary and Marshall. Eventually, they became intelligent enough to pack it up and call it a day, for which Mary felt a little guilty. She hadn't meant to make things awkward for them, but such a concept was overpowering her. She really couldn't remember the last time she'd been this uncomfortable – this furious – and she wasn't even sure why.

"We can save the pie for dessert and coffee another day…" Stan insisted as he stood, Marshall making blatant attempts to get them to stay. "Norah will be back soon, and you'll need to get her to bed anyway, right?"

Mary did not even stand, scowling and slumped in her chair as Marshall chattered with Lia, accompanying her to the door. Mary couldn't tell if he was apologizing or setting up additional plans; it had become white noise as she fought to stay in control another second. Stan, however, stayed behind. He stepped around the island to Mary's side, presenting her with a genial and soft-spoken goodbye out-of-earshot of both their significant others.

"Congratulations on the girl…" he whispered; he wasn't smiling, but he was genuine. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yes, thank-you…" she replied, nodding curtly and sparing him a look before fixing her eyes back on the granite in front of her.

"We'll set something up again in a few days before I leave," he suggested nearly inaudibly. "You and me and Norah – maybe just the three of us, huh?" he was trying to make her feel better by posing such a thing.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," she told him, although she knew she sounded stilted. "Thank-you for coming out for dinner."

"No problem."

There was the distant sound of Marshall and Lia saying farewells at the door as Stan waited, shifting with his hands in his pockets, glancing to make sure they couldn't be overheard. Mary just sat; lingering for what she knew was coming. Stan leaned close once he worked up the courage.

"Mary, she didn't mean anything…" he insisted in a low voice. "Lia; she didn't. Honest – Marshall didn't say it was a secret or that it wasn't set in stone or anything…"

"I know," Mary nodded slowly, her voice blank and unfocused.

"I'm sorry if we stirred something up…"

"Don't be," still in that flat tone, hardly looking at him. "It's been a long time coming. Apologize to Lia for me; I can do the honors myself at a later date."

Stan seemed surprised she was offering such a thing and straightened, accepting this for what it was, but also recognizing she was not going to let him in any further. It was best to get out now before the shit really hit the fan; nobody needed to be present for that.

"Mary, you're a good girl."

She swallowed at this, wondering how on earth he could say such a thing after how she'd just behaved – considering how she was about to behave. Did he know? Could he sense she fancied herself unable to measure up to Marshall's ideals?

"Goodnight," he concluded.

"Goodnight."

With that, Stan disappeared out of the kitchen to the door, joining Lia and saying his goodbyes to Marshall. But, Mary was up the minute he was gone and could no longer see them, slapping her napkin on her plate, feeling more and more sickened with each of Marshall's faux-merry farewells. He didn't waste any time; the second they got rid of them the door slammed and he blasted off like a rocket – like she'd never heard him blast off before, but he was about to meet his maker where that was concerned.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he burst.

He was tearing back through the living room, but she had already exploded, spewing her venom all over the place.

"Me? _Me_? What is wrong with _me_?" she repeated over and over again. "What is wrong with _you_? How the _hell_ could you tell Stan that we were getting married at Thanksgiving? I told you _no_!"

"You did not tell me '_no_!'" Marshall shouted. "You fiddled around with it just like you were doing three months ago – like you _always_ do!" he snatched his plate from the island and went to the sink, slamming it roughly into the contents with a very loud clang.

Mary was stung, "I do not _always_ 'fiddle' around!"

She used to, yes. But not anymore; she'd tried so hard in every other area of life to be more accepting, to open up. This was the one thing she did not invite in.

"When it comes to this, you do," Marshall insisted, whirling around and facing her where she was still stationed next to the island. "You absolutely do. Do you have any earthly idea how embarrassing that was for me? I just sat there and told them you were giving birth to my daughter, only to have you pipe up and say we're not getting married – not ever, from the sound of it!"

"Not when you're going to tell stories behind my back about our personal life!" Mary matched him pound-for-pound on this one, throwing out a hand to make sure she could stay upright, using the stool to keep herself balanced.

Marshall whipped out a dishtowel in his frustration, the rage building behind his eyes, in the tautness of his skin, the harshness of every wrinkle in his face.

"Why won't you commit to his?" he spat. "To _me_? When are you going to be an adult here? You are not seven anymore, Mary! You're a grown woman and your father is _dead_!" saying it so harshly obviously upset him; pity snuck into his eyes and his voice ascended to a high-pitched plea. "And I'm _sorry_! I'm sorry about your father; I _know_ he loved you and that you miss him and that you can't let go of that picture you have of him being murdered right in front of your eyes…"

"Stop it!" Mary cut him off, knowing that bringing James into this would make it so much harder than it already was. She didn't need that image to add to everything else. "Shut up about my father! This has nothing to do with him!"

"Then you better tell me – you better tell me _right now_ – what is keeping you from doing this," he ordered, eyes narrowing into slits as they bored into her face. "Because otherwise…"

"Otherwise _what_?" Mary retorted, chills running up and down her spine about where that sentence might be going. "What? You blindsided me with that shit!" she gestured to where Stan and Lia had been sitting. "You think _you_ were embarrassed?"

"I cannot believe that just happened…" his eyes flicked to the empty space as well, his skin reddening with the recollection. "I cannot believe we made things _that_ awkward for them…"

"Well, then you shouldn't have gone blabbing!" Mary was uncharacteristically irritated by his usual noble ways, always thinking of others; she didn't need that right now. "It's our business; not theirs!"

"I don't even think it's _our_ business!" Marshall flung out a hand, gesturing at absolutely nothing, but obviously so riled he couldn't stop himself. "Not anymore! How do you even see me anymore?" he threw out another thought. "What am I? Your boyfriend? Your…houseguest? The one who knocked you up?"

It was all so demeaning, Mary thought. It didn't need a label. He did not _need_to be any of those things, husband among them. He was simply…

"I don't know…" her voice dropped, but it was no less intense. "You're…Marshall. You're just Marshall."

She should've known this would not improve matters, because he shook his head, emitting a very bitter laugh to go among everything else. He was as sarcastic and cynical as she'd ever heard him, not imagining they'd ever make it to this point. She could see that his jaw was rigid in frustration.

"I was 'just Marshall' _before_ we were together," he emphasized crudely. "Was I stupid to think I could ever be more than that?"

Mary thought he was very close to putting words in her mouth, which gave her another reason to fire up again. Her legs were feeling shaky underneath her, but she was determined to hold her own. As she'd told Stan, such a blow-out was a long time coming.

"You're the father of my child!" she reminded him loudly. "You don't think that's good enough?"

"No!" he insisted flat-out, no more dancing around. "It isn't! And I don't understand how it isn't for you either – not unless you tell me! I want to be your husband; I want to have a wedding, I want to show the world that I love you and am going to be with you forever!"

That word 'forever' again. It did not endear Mary to the situation at all, but he wasn't done.

"And if you won't commend to that because you're afraid I'm going to bail on you like your father did, then I don't…" he shook his head again, pure disbelief drawn in all the curves on his cheeks. "I don't get you. I don't get it."

"I told you this is not about my father – Jesus!" Mary didn't want him to find out the real reason, but she couldn't stand to have him think that; that she hadn't progressed at all from not letting people in. "Don't you listen?"

"How can it not be?" his timbre rose again; louder and louder, echoing, washcloth and plates abandoned to stand nose-to-nose and have it out. "You're not giving me a better explanation!"

And before Mary could refute it all over again, he drove right on.

"Norah!" he pitched his arm in the direction of her bedroom, indicating the little girl. "Norah – she thinks you have _no_ friends. She _knows_ you have no friends! It is upsetting to her; she is worried about you because you shut yourself away!"

Mary was bowled over; so much so she had to counterattack at once, "Get real. She tell you that?"

"Yes!" Marshall declared much faster than she was expecting. "And Mary, there is no way I am going to stand here and insult you as a parent; there is _nobody_ I would want besides you mothering my child…" he was careful even in his criticism. "But, she cannot live that way. I told you when she was just a baby that your mistrust of people…"

"I don't need to be reminded!" Mary jabbed at him with her phrase, shutting her eyes to make it all go away for a moment. Reopening them, "I know exactly what you said. And I did not 'mess up that kid,'" she spat. "Weren't those your words?"

"What are we even doing here?" Marshall wondered over her question, leaving Norah aside for the time being. "What are we even doing if we're not going to get married? What sort of future do you envision?" he sounded highly skeptical.

"Marshall, we have Norah – and Robyn and Max and Brandi and Stan – Christ, we'll have a daughter…" her voice broke on the final word; she'd done so well in not becoming a weeping mess, but she didn't have a lot longer left. "_Why_ are you pushing this? I don't understand…"

"I don't understand why you will not tell me what is holding you back," it was obvious that hurt him most of all; she could tell, even as his voice remained laced with disgust at her actions. "I thought you trusted me – that you believed in me enough to let me be a part of your life. Apparently, I can transform right back into your partner at the drop of a hat."

Mary was flabbergasted by such an accusation; he was more than that. He'd been more than that for a long time. One choice, one decision, and he doubted it? How much would he be doubting when he saw the real her emerge underneath? He was seeing it now, and it was plain he did not approve.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that," she admitted.

"Well, I don't know either…" Marshall shrugged. "But, I think maybe we need a night…"

"A night?" Mary was confused.

"A night apart," he clarified.

God no. This was not happening. She'd never dreamed it was possible. She'd never thought she could make him so angry he would actually leave.

"Apart," she stated, trying to stay cool. "And what, pray tell, do you imagine that is going to do?"

"I need some time to think," he whispered. "I think I will get a lot more accomplished if we are not under the same roof for the evening."

He was already headed for the door, determined to get out before more later-regretted words were hurled, grabbing his keys and sunglasses from the end table.

"Where the hell are you going to stay?" Mary demanded as she followed him. "Should I expect you back sometime next month, or what?" dripping with sarcasm.

"It's a night, Mary," he said it again, hand on the knob. "I'll get up in the morning and go to work and be back tomorrow. End of story."

End of story was right. She couldn't find the words to stop him, what phrase she could possibly use to voice the fears he was putting into motion right now. She was not good enough, and so he was leaving. What other way was there to look at it?

Down the walk he went, leaving her standing in the doorway, watching his car disappear down the drive. It didn't take her long once she shut the door to succumb to the tears. She cried. She cried and cried and cried, droplets streaming, full, wet, round, dampening her cheeks as she leaned on the back of the door.

How could she have done this? How on earth could she have screwed this up so badly? Who was she anymore? She could say she'd marry him, but now it made no difference. He'd seen everything she hadn't wanted him to.

And he was gone.

XXX

**A/N: Oooooookkkkkaaaay LOL! I am sure some of you are quite frustrated with my Mary, but I hope you'll keep giving her a chance. Deep-deep down, she means well, right? ;)**

**Like I said upfront, things are gonna start chugging along now! Hope you'll keep reading to see where it's headed! Thanks for reviewing!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I knew you all would be quite aggravated with my Mary – I hope you'll find it in your hearts to forgive her down the line. ;)**

XXX

Mary still sported the after-effects of having sobbed a half hour later when Mark showed up with Norah. The door was open from her seeing Marshall out – or whatever you wanted to call his exit – and so he walked right in. She'd been standing at the counter that faced the living room when she heard the knob turn and immediately started wiping her eyes, sniffling so she wouldn't drip, hoping her lids were not too red-rimmed. She wasn't sure Norah had ever seen her cry, and now wasn't a good time to start.

"Hello!" Mark called to the house at large. "Anybody here?"

Mary wanted to holler back, mostly to save face, but when she opened her mouth the words just evaporated. They wouldn't come. They wouldn't come without shedding more tears, and so she mopped up one more time and stepped around the counter for greetings.

"Hey…" Mark smiled and waved, Norah trailing on his hand, backpack resting on her shoulders. "Sorry we're a little late; there won't be much time for anything but snacks and bedtime," he realized.

Mary was only just realizing it too as she glanced out the window as well as at the clock; the sun had gone down and it was indeed nearing Norah's bedtime.

"It's okay…" she shook her head with a swallow, working hard and fast at becoming coherent. "It's no big deal," she knew if they'd been on time they'd have walked in on her and Marshall's brawl, and she didn't need that.

Mark was a little befuddled, but Norah didn't notice, "Mommy, I went on the _biggest_ slide in the water park when dad took me yesterday."

"Yeah?" Mary snuck in a sniffle with the single word. "Was it fast?"

"Super fast," Norah nodded, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and into her hands.

Mary saw her about to fling it into the living room, but remembered to stop her, "Here Bug; give it to me; I need to wash your clothes…"

Norah obliged and continued speaking while Mary unzipped the bag to take out her dirty laundry like she was on autopilot, only half-listening to her daughter's thrilling tale.

"They had this one ride – it was like a raft – and I wasn't tall enough to ride it, but daddy told me to wear my swim shoes and they let me on," she revealed happily. "He went with me on that one; the raft went up and down the sides of the slide and I didn't scream _at all_, but dad did a few times…" she threw Mark a glowing look.

"I may have been called 'girlish' by some passerby," he admitted, throwing up his hands in defeat. "There are worse things. You should've seen the ride, Mare, Norah was a total pro. Not tall enough my ass."

The programmed part of Mary's brain wanted to tell him off for swearing in front of Norah, but found her energy was so lacking she did not really care. Norah never used such words; it was really Robyn they had to worry about.

She also knew she needed to say something, judging by the way they were both looking at her for a comment about their voyage down some pseudo-river.

Gaping stupidly for a moment, Mary eventually got her wits about her, "It sounds great, love. You're a really good swimmer – I'm sure you and dad both gave them what for when they tried to keep you out of the fun."

This definitely satisfied Norah, but Mark seemed to sense it was half-hearted at best and furrowed his brow in response. Fortunately, it appeared their daughter was through with her story and she was already making her way through the kitchen, inquiring over her shoulder.

"Can I have some cookies before bed, mom?"

"Sure…" Mary told her. "I'll pour you some milk in a minute. There's a new package in the cupboard," she gestured across the room. "Get some out."

Norah was agreeable, her long and scraggly hair swishing down her back in a ponytail. Mary never bothered styling it, but Mark always seemed to want her looking a little more groomed and often tried his hand at tidying the knots.

Once she was out of earshot Mary sighed, just trying to fathom what sort of reaction this would prompt from Mark, walking to the island to deposit Norah's things. He followed, not fooled for a minute.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, leaning in close while she busied herself dividing Norah's clean clothes from her dirty ones. "You look like you've been crying; what happened?"

On a better day, she'd pummel him for daring to call her out on her tears, but she was so defeated at the moment it really didn't bother her. In his own way, he was being sweet, and she turned to give him a more direct stare in hopes that he would not pester further.

"I'm fine…" she told him, mindful not to let Norah hear. "Just a rough night, but it's nothing to worry about."

She wondered if Mark would buy such a thing.

"Is something going on?" he persisted in asking. "With you? The baby?"

"No…" she shook her head and bit down hard on her lip, wondering how many ex-husbands there were in the world that concerned themselves with the welfare of a child conceived by their former lover and her new mate. "The baby's fine; I was just at the doctor yesterday. Everything's fine."

"Well, then…" Mark began, but they were interrupted by Norah's return; she was tugging on the plastic concealing her cookies, unable to bust them open.

"Mommy, they're stuck…" she claimed, staring up at her with her enormous dark eyes, offering the treats to be untied.

"Here Bug, let me see…" Mary offered, grateful for the opportunity to bum off Mark and his questions.

However, his mention of her unborn child alerted her to something she could share that might be an excellent distracter for all parties involved. She abandoned the cookies, tucking them under her arm, and reached to pull Norah onto the stool at the island.

"I'll get you a cookie in a second," she promised, securing her big hands to lift Norah up. "I've got something I want to tell you."

Unfortunately, her embarrassment was about to be furthered. She could still hold Norah, but the box began to slip under her arms and she had to let go, hoping it wouldn't crash to the ground. Mark, noticing her predicament, decided to be chivalrous and slid them free.

"Mare, let me…" he offered, referring to Norah this time and, side-stepping his ex, he hoisted his little girl up with ease where she wiggled her butt into place, facing both of them.

Mary reached out and smoothed her matted hair before speaking, trying to smile and wondering in the very back of her mind if Marshall would want to be present for such a reveal. But, he wasn't here and, in any case, Norah was her child. He could be around when they told the rest of the crew. If he was still with her at that point.

"I was just telling your dad that Marshall and I went to the doctor yesterday."

Mark seemed to think he might be getting an answer to Mary's understated attitude and kept quiet.

"Mmm hmm…" Norah hummed in response, legs dangling toward the floor.

Mary thought she might want to make this a bigger deal, but now that it was upon her she figured it was probably best to just say it. Considering everything else going on, it seemed mundane.

"And we found out I'm having a girl," she revealed quietly. "So, you'll have a sister."

Norah offered a sweet, low key little smile at the news – probably the best reaction Mary could hope for from one who looked at the pregnancy as just another area of life; nothing to get worked up over unless it caused problems. Mark, however, was unexpectedly energized and beamed as proudly as if it were his kid.

"Norah, that's exciting!" he obviously wanted a better reply, but it didn't bother Mary. "You know, you're the same age as your mom was when Brandi came along – they're six years apart," he stated, something that surprised the expectant mother. "You and your sister will be the same way."

"Well, that's kind of neat…" Norah shrugged, somewhat endeared to the comparison. "So, I'm like you and the baby will be like Brandi."

"Only in terms of age," Mary let out a shaky laugh, wondering what Mark had cooked up here. "But kind of. Yeah."

Norah nodded, pleased but not going pitch a fit or anything; it wasn't who she was. That task could be left for Robyn, but Mary wanted to make sure there wasn't anything more on her mind – just in case.

"I know you were hoping for a boy, Bug…" her mother admitted, grabbing one of those kicking feet and bringing it to rest to get her to stop. "Are you disappointed?"

"Disappointed is sad, right?" Norah asked.

"Sort of," Mary affirmed.

She considered, but only for a moment, "No, I don't think I'm sad. Max is kind of like a brother already, so I guess it doesn't matter."

Mark laughed at this, "That's my girl. So logical."

Mary was forced to bring out a genuine smile too, the sensation feeling a little quivery in her watery eyes. To avoid getting in disarray, she leaned over and kissed the top of Norah's head, and then pulled her into her chest, resting her chin on her hair. Hopefully, Mark would understand the affection had come from the big reveal, and wouldn't think too much of it.

Just as they were parting, the tiniest of flutters came from below; little sister making her presence known. Even Norah, not enthralled by anything pregnancy, felt the tickle and giggled, shifting away and staring up at her mother with a little something like wonder.

"Is that her?" she asked, but knew it was; she'd felt it before.

"Yeah, she's kicking," Mary sniffled again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Maybe she knows you're there, Bug," she didn't know what made her say such a thing, but Norah actually latched on.

"Could she?" the idea that the baby had a gender seemed to solidify for this six-year-old that there was an actual person growing somewhere in there.

"Give me your hand…"

Mary didn't know where it was coming from; all the touchy-feely. She was upset about Marshall and on the verge of busting at the seams again, but Norah's slow acceptance into what was becoming part of her family was touching her unexpectedly. Her mother laid the little girl's fingers on the side of her belly, but the toes seemed to have shifted.

"Down…" Mary was talking to herself at this point, trying to stay in the zone. "Move over this way…" shifting her daughter's wrist, she waited, and the sharpness of the thumps returned; strong and hard against the ridge of Mary's tummy, right on Norah's palm.

"You feel that?" she asked her oldest.

"That's weird…" Norah commented curiously. "It's different than last time."

"Well, she's getting bigger," Mary rationalized.

Norah's expression changed with this explanation, and a little bit of doubt crept into her eyes, "Does she hurt you, mommy?"

Mary thought about telling her the truth, but then remembered she was going to have to explain Marshall away at some point, and she was less comfortable lying about that. This was something that could be sugarcoated; boxed up and put away for a later date.

"No," she said in a low voice, gently pulling Norah's fingers away from the round where they came to rest in her lap. "She doesn't hurt me."

With that, Norah seemed comforted and Mark knew it was time he said his farewells, even if he hadn't quite figured out where the uncertainty lay this evening. After making excuses about having an early meeting and needing to get to bed – probably so Norah would consent to doing the same for her mother – he was pulling his daughter in for a sideways hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Bye cutie…" he whispered, which made her giggle from inside his chest. "You be good for mom, promise? Don't wear her out."

"Don't you know I'm always good?" Norah declared contemptuously, sticking a hand on her hip.

Mary grinned, still trying to keep her emotions under wraps, "I'm gonna walk dad to the door, okay? Sit tight."

Norah nodded and picked up the package of cookies once more, trying to use her nails to unstick the plastic, even her teeth to bite at the corners. Mary decided she could make the attempt until she was through with Mark, wanting to convince him one last time that he didn't need to concern himself with her woes.

As expected, when she opened the door and saw him out on the stoop, he brought it to her attention once again.

"You sure you're all right?" he pressed, leaning on the doorframe casually. "Where's Marshall? Is he working?"

Mary shook her head, "He's out."

"Out?" Mark was obviously bewildered. "On a Sunday night?"

"Marshall doesn't exactly 'party' like the rest of us," Mary groused, wondering if this would quiet him or at least help him figure out it wasn't something she wanted to discuss.

Wrong again. Her heart began to bounce seeing Mark's eyebrows narrow and he straightened off the frame, looking more serious. She knew even before he said anything that he'd figured it out.

"Did you argue or something?"

Maybe it was better he knew, Mary thought. Now she could be truthful but also downplay the entire ordeal; she could come clean without beating it to death. Surely that would work – Mark might even be empathetic, whether she deserved it or not.

"Yeah, but it's not a problem," she insisted quickly. "He'll go do his thing, blow off some steam; we'll regroup tomorrow."

"But, you seem upset…"

"I'm not upset," now she lied, really just wanting him to leave; she was already going to have to have some version of this conversation with Norah and she didn't relish it. "Couples fight, Mark, it's not exactly new. I would think you'd know that after going through marriage with me."

Mark finally backed away after that, nodding, exchanging the usual 'I'll call you' and such. With a gentle kiss on her cheek, he smiled warmly before departing completely.

"Congratulations about your girl, kid," he mused somewhat peacefully. "You made a great one before – best there is. I know you'll do it again."

Mary wanted to be angry that he was being so schmaltzy, but found that the statement was so unabashedly kind that she couldn't. She really was lucky to have Mark sometimes.

"Thank-you," she said thickly. "You're sweet."

And on that note, he disappeared, waving as he went jaunting down the walk and started up his car. Mary watched him go even long after the space in the drive was empty, staring through the blackness; it felt very familiar to the blackness – the emptiness – she kept inside. The breeze was warm, making her skin hot; her shirt seemed unusually tight at the neck.

Eventually, she forced herself to shut the door and bask in the cool air once more. But, when she turned around the sight was most unpleasant. Norah was right where she'd left her, seemingly small in the stool at the island, cookies still unopened in her lap. But, the way she watched her; the way her large eyes probed back and forth like some strobe; Mary knew she'd heard. She knew Marshall wasn't here, and she might even know why.

"Marshall left?" she whispered as Mary approached her back in the kitchen, taking the cookies and opening them as she'd promised fifteen minutes ago.

Handing one to her daughter, "Yes, he did," she felt it was important to be direct but unhysterical about this. "But, he will be back at some point. We fought…"

She was going to continue, but Norah stopped her, "Like you did the other night?" she hadn't even touched her cookie.

Mary shrugged, crunching her own, "Kind of," she was doing a pretty good job keeping her misery off her face. "Bug, he needed some time to think," she emphasized, twirling a strand of her daughter's hair around her finger. "Sometimes, that's easier to do on your own."

"What does he need to think about?" Norah wondered, her voice timid as she learned the facts of this new situation.

"I'm not really sure," Mary knew this was partially true. "But, we do need some space to figure it out. It does not mean that he doesn't love you or me or the baby," she really and truly hoped that was the case.

Norah glanced into her lap, rotating her cookie between her fingers, considering the circumstances long and hard. Mary waited as patiently as she could, chewing quietly on her own treat and trying to guess what her child's next move might be. There was no telling, and when she looked up again, it was with a question Mary figured only the mention of 'the baby' could've prompted.

"How long has Marshall known me?"

Mary swallowed, "Since you were born. You know that."

"Was he there when I was born?" this was a twist.

Mary contemplated how best to go about explaining that day in more detail, and it came rushing back in a fleet. Shooting and killing the suspect, Brandi running away from Peter, Abigail's little wave from down the aisle…

"_You really feel the weight of…this. You know?"_

And, Marshall had known. He'd known all along even better than she had. He'd known as he helped her sit down when she'd nearly collapsed. He'd known as he rubbed her back and murmured reassurances in her ear.

"Well…" Mary finally began. "He was there when we found out you were on your way – that you were coming pretty soon," she eventually settled on. "But, he wasn't there when you actually showed up. No."

"Not like you were when Robyn was born?" Norah questioned.

"Not like that, no," Mary affirmed. "Why do you want to know, Bug?"

Norah simply shrugged, quiet and inquisitive, still without having taken a bite of her cookie. Mary was patient once more, doing her very best to be understanding and helpful where all this was concerned. Wherever Norah's question had originated from, however, it had obviously left her mind to make way for something else.

"Do you think I could fix it?"

Mary was definitely confused, "Fix what?"

"Whatever happened with you and Marshall. Could I fix it? If you tell me how; I can do it…" she insisted eagerly, making Mary's heart drop into her stomach. "You said Marshall needed to think, and…"

Mary sighed and shook her head; hating everything about this for the position it was putting Norah in. She shouldn't think she needed to mend these fences, repair these gushing wounds. She shouldn't be living the life that Mary had at the exact same age, thinking if she just worked hard enough she could make everything okay again.

"No, Bug…" she was forced to admit to it, cupping Norah's chin in her hand. "You can't fix it if you didn't cause it."

XXX

The sunlight was unusually bright when it shined into Mary's bedroom through the netted curtains. Something about it was strange – not the fact that Marshall wasn't beside her; she was used to that when he had to get up early to go into the office. Just that she was always up roughly around the time the sun began to ascend over the mountains in the distance, not when it was full and high in the sky as it seemed to be right now. She'd slept in.

Rolling over with a groan and squinting at the clock, she saw that it was just after nine; virtually afternoon in her world. Rubbing her eyes with her fingers, she wondered why Norah had not woken her and figured she must've crashed the night before too; both of them equally tired.

Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, Mary spared a thought for Marshall and assumed he must've been true to his word. He'd stayed somewhere the night before – to 'think' and had gone straight to work in the morning. She was going to have to figure out what the hell she was going to say when he arrived home that evening, especially with Norah around.

Pattering down the hall, she found that her daughter's door was open a crack and she was already calling her name before she stuck her head in.

"Norah…!" a little louder than she meant to. "Norah – come on Bug. It's late…"

And when her voice trailed away and her eyes strayed to the contents of the little girl's room, Mary knew in an instant that she would never, as long as she lived, forget the freezing, paralyzing ice that seeped into every pore, vein, and fiber of her body.

She blinked once at first, and then twice. Norah's covers were drawn back, wrinkled as they were when she got out at night to use the restroom. And she wasn't in them. She wasn't there. And Mary's intuition, the intuition she'd gained as a US Marshal and a seven-year-old girl with a dirt bag father knew that she was not simply playing in the living room, the backyard, or watching TV. She knew because there was a piece of paper angled on her pillow. It still had a dent in it from where her daughter laid her head.

Her feet somehow took her that direction, although she really had no idea how. Her fingers found the slip and pulled it to her eyes. It was written in red crayon. The letters were unclear, bumpy and jagged like Norah had written it while sitting on the carpet. Her pupils flew side-to-side, reading the six words over and over again, making sure she understood what it said.

_I __pramiss__ I can fick it._

Mary's brain was jammed. No matter how she tried to think, how she tried to comprehend; nothing was coming to her. Her heartbeat was too loud for her to concentrate. It was too hard for her to breathe. How was she supposed to make sense of this when she could not even draw air? When her fingers were shaking so violently? She looked at it again and again, and Marshall came back in a whirlwind. So did the discussion she'd had with her daughter. The two misspelled words suddenly became clear.

_I __promise__ I can fix it._

Mary knew better, and yet she did it anyway. What else was there? She threw the note back to the bed and shouted.

"Norah!"

Down the hall, through the living room.

"Norah!"

Into the kitchen.

"Norah!"

The bathroom, the backyard, the front porch.

"Norah! Norah!"

Mary was dying. She had to be. No other sensation had to prompt a feeling of such complete and utter horror. Her daughter was…

She couldn't say it. She could barely stand to think it as the tears began to stream down her face from where she finally came to a halt, halfway between the living room and the hall. Eventually, her shivering fingers found her phone and she dialed the first number that popped into her head. If she'd had her wits about her, she would've called somebody else, but the word 'emergency' was penetrating over and over in her brain, and there was only one place to call when such a phrase infiltrated. Her own version of 911.

There was a voice on the second ring.

"Marshal Service."

Mary knew how she was about to sound, but she didn't care. She'd never cared less in her life.

"Delia, its Mary…" her voice fell to pieces on every single syllable there was to be uttered.

"Hey Mary; good morning," the woman didn't even notice. "Marshall's out in the field, but I can…"

"It's not Marshall!" she wasn't actually yelling; she was crying.

Delia, bless her, finally got with the program, "What's going on?" dead serious.

She was going to have to say it. She was going to have to admit to the nightmare she had just hurtled into. She was done for. If they could not fix _this_, her life was over.

"Norah's gone…"

Her blubbering was absolutely embarrassingly loud.

"Norah's missing…"

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and saw that gorgeous, precious, beautiful face with the long, tattered blonde hair and the massive, innocent dark eyes.

"She ran away."

XXX

**A/N: Betchya you thought it was gonna be the baby that created the chaos! Was I too much of a tease with Mary's forever-spinning stomach? I tried to tease, in an undercurrent, with Norah's independence as well, which is why I hope this is not too out-of-the-blue or too harsh. I am also optimistic that nobody is **_**too**_** upset that Mary would tell Norah some measure of the truth about Marshall. I didn't want her to lie to her child, but I also didn't want it to be too similar to the Sam stories, having her feel like Norah needed every little factoid. Happy medium, and Norah's confusion is obviously vital to the rest of the tale. ;)**

**Thanks for sticking with me! Hope you still are!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Thanks for reviewing; I'm banking on some anxious readers for this chapter (and future ones!)**

XXX

Mary and Mark did not do 'crisis' well. That was the first thing that the woman discovered, because they were both louder, ruder, and entirely more frantic in the presence of a catastrophe. Well, Mark was the 'frantic' portion anyway. Mary transferred almost seamlessly into Marshal-mode, but it didn't make her feel better. It made her feel horrible. She was not a Marshal. She was a mother who didn't know where her child was. She'd rather be a huge mess, but the occurrence of a calamity put her on auto-pilot.

"You said she was fine! You _said_ she was _fine_!"

Mark shouted it over and over. Mary wanted nothing more than to tell him to put a sock in it, but she just hollered back; no better course of action.

"I know what I said! Jesus Mark! I know!"

The house was full of people. It made Mary feel disgustingly confined, like she was choking to death. Jinx was there. Joanna was there; Brandi had been informed and was on her way, as was Peter, children in tow no doubt. Delia was there too, and some detective Mary had never met from the Albuquerque police department; she had a feeling Delia had pulled strings so the person on the case didn't end up being Abigail. But the unknown woman – mid-thirties and dark brunette – was booted quite quickly. Mary had no patience for strangers.

"I told you something was going on with her!" Mark would not quit yelling and it was giving Mary a monstrous headache; difficult to clue in to him with Jinx and Joanna chattering to get both of them to back down, Delia on the phone in the kitchen. "I told you she was not right and look what's happened!"

All of his compassion from the night before was gone. He was as livid as Mary had ever seen him.

"I didn't do this on purpose!" Mary couldn't resist shouting back, wrenching Jinx off her arm. "For Christ's sake Mark! What sort of mother do you think I am?"

She shouldn't have even allowed that question into the mix; her and Mark were already inches from one another, spitting in the living room, a mother on either side trying to calm the waters.

"What does this even mean?" the man ordered, snatching Norah's handwritten note from the coffee table and thrusting it in her face. "What does this mean? What is she talking about?"

"Don't touch it; it's evidence!" Mary cried without thinking.

"I don't care what the hell it is!" Mark's eyes were popping. "I want to know what she's talking about! Tell me what she's talking about! Fix _what_?"

"I don't know!" Mary lied, again without thinking, not even knowing what made her say it because Mark wasn't buying into a word.

"You do too!" he flung himself even closer to her, staring into her green eyes; his were no longer childlike and juvenile, but hard and deep with rage. "Mary, tell me what happened last night or I swear to God…"

"Mark, stop!" Joanna was finally able to raise her voice over the bedlam to get through to her son, clearly not liking where the phrase was headed. She yanked hard on his arm to get him to back up, stepping between the pair of them; eyes stricken on Mary's miserable face. "Stop it; don't stand there and threaten her," his mother chastised, not letting go of his arm. "You know better than that," like he was five. "There's no call for you to speak to her that way."

Mark looked as though he wholeheartedly disagreed, but crossed his arms and merely scowled, eyes darting to Delia in the kitchen, who was still on the phone. Mary's chest was heaving up and down, hardly daring to believe it had been as long as it had already – two hours since she'd placed the call to Delia. Mark riled more and more the longer they sat together; coming up with a new way to place blame.

"Honey…" Jinx was able to interrupt in the midst of the chaos while Joanna stood firmly in front of Mark, speaking in an undertone in hopes of getting him to calm down. "You need to tell Mark whatever you know; he's her father, angel…"

Mary knew as much. She hadn't been holding back on purpose. When Mark had first showed up, he hadn't seemed to care _why_ Norah was gone – just that she was gone. Now that they'd been at it a little longer, he wanted answers. She'd thrown the wall up as a defense mechanism.

Sighing, she shoved Jinx off and spoke up as rationally as possible, causing Joanna to step aside again so Mark could look at her dead-on.

"Mark, I told her about Marshall…"

"Wait, what about Marshall?" Jinx butted in, but Mary ignored her.

"She seemed _fine_," Mary insisted boldly. "I told her he would be back today – or that he'd be back – and she asked me if she could do something to fix it and when I told her she couldn't, she didn't say anything else. You think I would've just sent her off by herself if I'd known she was this adamant about it!"

"What is going on with Marshall?" Jinx persisted, not about to let this go by if they were going to get to the root of something. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine; we had an argument!" Mary burst loudly, not liking how close Jinx was standing next to her; her stomach ached and she wanted everyone to go away. "And no…!" she cut her mother off as she opened her mouth to go on. "I am not telling you what it was about; it has nothing to do with this and it isn't important! Nothing is important! Nothing is important unless we find Norah…!"

Her voice began to tremble on the final phrase and she almost choked on it, cracking at the octaves and gulping noticeably to keep herself under wraps. Jinx looked as though she'd been slapped in the face with Mary's admonition and wasn't paying enough attention. Joanna, across from her however, had eyes like the eagle and she deserted Mark momentarily.

Her eyes were actually kind, Mary thought. They were a light shade of hazel, but they twinkled with both acceptance as well as a sense of forthrightness. She was tender, but no-nonsense too.

Her arm floated onto Mary's cheek, cupping it in her hand, "We will figure this out, honey."

All Mary could do was nod, burying every need she had to break down and cry, but a single tear still escaped.

"You try to stay calm," a demand this time. "Both of you…" she turned back to Mark, who gave a terse nod. And then, to Mary once again with her hand still on her cheek, "Whatever she's looking for out there, eventually she will come back here when she doesn't find it."

"She's looking for Marshall…" Mary didn't know what made her utter such a thing, but she sensed it was true. "She's looking for Marshall…" all of her started to shudder; she wanted to stop, but it was impossible. She'd never been able to keep herself from attaining something so seemingly simple.

Jinx picked up on it this time, "Sweetheart, it's all right…" she guided her in so her head bumped into her shoulder and Joanna tweaked her cheek before departing, back to her son. "It's all right."

No, it wasn't. How could it possibly be all right? Nothing about this was all right and she shook her head, tossing Jinx off another time before she sunk onto the sofa and Mark continued to pace.

For awhile, all she did was sit. Delia was doing all the grunt work, coordinating with people at the police department and calling up everybody under the sun. Mary didn't know how she was able to remain still, remain sentry and not do anything. When her father had bolted from the back of an ambulance, she'd vowed to find him come hell or high water. How had she changed now? Was it possible she'd placed enough trust in someone else, even those she did not know, to do the job for her so she could simply concentrate on being a parent?

Jinx kept trying to bring her things – water, food as they inched toward twelve o'clock – but she refused all of it. Hands pressed over her mouth, all she could do was wait, listening to the beating of her own heart. Marshall lingered in the rear of her mind, wondering if he would show up. She knew Delia had phoned him right away when the news had broken, but he'd been out-of-range in the field somewhere. She hadn't had the heart to ask someone to try again, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

The first face that brought even some kind of relief was that of the short and bald variety. Stan came barreling through the front door as they were nearing their third hour; badass mentality in full swing. She'd missed that face.

"I just heard…" he breathed, wearing his suit and speaking to Jinx; one of the few people he recognized.

Jinx was floored as he approached her from where she was standing around the outer counter, "Stan, what are you doing here?" she breathed while he placed a hand on her back. "Did you come all the way from Washington?"

"I came into town a few days ago," he reported with a furtive glance at Mary. "To visit with Lia and whatnot; Delia just filled me in on what was going on…"

In one ear, Mary heard Delia explaining specifics, wanting to keep it from Mary if she wasn't up to hearing; if it was anything good she'd have been told already. She'd gone into a trance. It was the only way she could keep from losing it completely.

Jinx was making introductions to Mark and Joanna now. Mary knew she should do the honors, but she couldn't; she just stared into nothingness while they commenced in the kitchen.

"Hi Mark, I'm Stan McQueen…"

"I remember – kind of – Norah talks about you sometimes…"

"Stan was Mary's and Marshall's boss before…"

"I am now deputy director of one of the Marshal divisions in Washington, D.C…"

"Sounds like you're the best there is," that was Joanna, the first voice Mary could really glean among the buzzing in her brain. "Couldn't ask for anything more; it's not luck you're here this week."

Mary could imagine Stan nodding even if she wasn't looking at him, eyes still fixated in the beyond where the front door remained resolutely shut. Her fingers were still pushed up against her lips; she didn't know what was going to come out of her mouth if she let loose.

"Excuse me a second…" Stan's voice was still distant, but she thought she could guess where he was headed this time.

His form floated in front of her eyes before she was ready – the bend in his knees as he perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaving the hushed whispers behind. Mary was already crouched with her elbows on her legs, making her belly feel uncomfortably tight but there was no sense in moving. Stan's brown eyes were warm, swimming with a gentle, silky and soft kind of hope. He kept it between them, never raising his voice.

"Come here…"

Carefully, he reached out and pulled one of the hands from her mouth. She wanted to tell him to stop, that she was going to shatter into pieces if she didn't stay like this, but she couldn't speak. He held her hand in his, caressing it between his fingers and she wanted to tell him to quit that too, but she didn't know how at all.

"I need to talk to you," Stan murmured. "You don't need to do anything. All you need to do is listen until I tell you otherwise."

Mary nodded to show she understood. It was really all she was capable of anyway.

"According to Delia, the watch has been on almost three hours…" he began. "But, we don't actually know how long she's been gone," his voice got lower and lower, and Mary was so grateful the others couldn't get wind of this. "We can put out an alert, not an Amber Alert since she hasn't been abducted, but something similar…"

Those words were going to break Mary clean in half and she just gnawed on her lower lip and shook her head. She wasn't saying yes or no, but the gesture spoke of something different; that the idea was simply too big to be given voice.

"But Mary, you're still a Federal Marshal," Stan continued. "Obviously, so is Marshall. We get her full name out there with so many details; it puts both of your jobs in jeopardy…"

She knew this. She also knew what was coming next.

"You also have enough knowledge of missing child reports to know that when we release information to the public, it not only gives the average, kindly Joe reason to be on the lookout…" his eyes flicked over his shoulder to Mark before he finished his sentence. "It makes her prey for predators if they know she's out there unprotected."

Stan was trying to be delicate, but there was no good way to present consequences such as these. What situation had she landed her innocent six-year-old in? Norah would either stay under the radar to keep Mary's and Marshall's employment in check, or she got plastered all over the news and risked some creepy pedophile tearing after her. How could she, as a mother, possibly be in this horrific bout of misfortune? Did anybody deserve this?

"Mary…" Stan rubbed her hand again, looking straight into her dejected and weary eyes. "We've got a lot of people on this. I got Delia clearance to pull in some of the big guns from ABQ PD," he explained. "As far as we know, there's been no foul play; I think we can afford to wait before we put her face out there for the whole world to see."

Mary nodded, knowing the time had come for her to speak as well as she knew how.

"Wait," her vocal chords felt constricted from lack-of-use. "Let's wait."

Stan was sympathetic, "Absolutely. Hang in there, all right?" he suggested with a particularly hard squeeze of her fingers. "She's a smart kid, Mary. She'll take care of herself until somebody can track her down. If anything comes to mind about where she might've gone, just let somebody know; you know all the protocols."

"I can't remember anything…" she confessed tragically, an anguished whisper. "I can't…"

"That's okay…" Stan assured her, but she wasn't done.

"Stan, I'm sorry…" she confessed, far more earnestly than she expressed just about anything.

But Stan didn't get it, "I told you; don't worry about it; don't make yourself crazy because you can't pin anything down…"

"Not about that…" Mary corrected him and ran a finger under her nose to keep it from dripping. "About last night; it wasn't your fault, and it wasn't Lia's fault…" best to get it all out now. "I was horrific…"

Stan stroked her fingers, one-by-one, slowly and delicately like his life depended on it. She watched him do it, watched his strong hands conceal her own. It was more soothing than she might've ever thought.

"Forget it…" he brushed his eyes upward toward hers to show he was serious. "You were not your most charming, but you were in a tough spot," he formulated his own version of events. "Concentrate on yourself right now; this stress cannot be good for you…"

She was astounded he'd brought up pregnancy of his own volition.

"_We_ will concentrate on finding Norah," he finally concluded.

"I think she's looking for Marshall, but I don't know where she thinks he would've gone," Mary wagged her head again to convey her disbelief. "She's confused about what's going on; I didn't think she'd go this far…"

"Where is Marshall?" Stan interrupted, glancing all around as if the man was going to pop up suddenly from behind a couch. "Is he even here?"

"I don't know where he is," Mary averted her eyes in her shame for having brought all this on. "Delia tried to call him a couple hours ago; he was in the field and wasn't answering…"

"Okay, well we need to try again; he needs to be here…" Stan decided at once, maneuvering his phone out of his pocket. "He would kill himself if he knew you were sitting here like this, all by yourself…"

Before Mary could stop him, make some sort of feeble protest, the door emitted another creak and she jumped, peering over Stan's head to see who was coming through it. Her heart sank like a stone seeing it was not Marshall or Norah, but Brandi. Max was on her hip, still wide-eyed with his short hair. Robyn lingered at her side, looking a little wide-eyed herself at all the activity. It was clear she'd been clued in the most minimal amount, getting her first taste of real and unbridled drama.

Brandi put Max to the floor; Mary expected him to bolt to Jinx, who was the closest, but he toddled right into the living room on his chubby little legs. It took her a moment, as her mind was so murky, before she realized where her nephew was headed. It wasn't until he curled his fingers over the edge of the couch; all-blue-orbs behind the cushion, that Mary equated this with wanting to be picked up. Not just picked up, but picked up by her. How could she have forgotten he never actually _asked_ for anything?

Exhaling loudly, with Stan watching and everything, she slipped her big hands under Max's arms and pulled him next to her. He immediately snuggled his cheek onto the sleeve of her shirt, perfectly content to simply sit side-by-side. He was such a lover.

"Mary…" he gurgled, actually managing something closer to the 'M' sound. "Mary…tuck…?" he held up a little car with wheels for her to see.

All she did was make his hair wet upon kissing the strands, both from the contact and the continued tears she shed. Although it would take a crane to truly lift her heart in such a horrendous moment, she was pretty sure Max was holding the lever.

Meanwhile, Brandi had knelt and Mary could hear her whispering to Robyn, giving instructions it sounded as though she'd pounded into her daughter before they'd arrived; not taking any chances.

"You can say hello to Mary, but then you need to go out and play in the yard just like I told you…"

"Mommy, I _know_…" Robyn did not do the best job of hiding her impatience.

"Mark's mommy will stay out there with you until daddy gets here…"

"I _know_…!"

"You don't bother Mary; she doesn't want to see your act right now, do you understand?" Brandi, even in her very shallow voice, was extremely serious. "She's very-very-very sad…" the tone dropped yet again, but Mary heard anyway. "You know that. Norah ran off somewhere and didn't tell Mary where she was going, and she's really unhappy…"

"_I know_!" Robyn was definitely edgy now and almost stamped her foot.

Brandi had obviously worked hard at this, unable to let Robyn believe for a second one of her usual shows would go anywhere toward cheering Mary up. Mary really couldn't help feeling grateful as her little niece approached and Stan slid further back on the coffee table to give her more room.

The smile Mary wiggled onto her face was painful; it was physically hurtful, and so she couldn't imagine how it looked. Robyn was wearing a little pink skirt that flipped out in tiers, and a yellow tank-top printed with stars; hair in its usual pigtails.

"Mommy said to say hi."

Mary swallowed, "Hi babe," giving her what she'd asked for.

"You're sad?" it shouldn't have surprised her that Robyn wanted confirmation.

Mary's nod was shaky and so was the random shrug with which she punctuated it, but that ridiculous, completely unnecessary half-smile was still on her face.

"Don't be sad," Robyn suggested easily.

And Mary's brash, brazen, theatrical niece, whom her aunt saw as nothing more than a glaring contrast between herself and her treasured daughter, offered the best words of comfort she'd been given all day.

"Norah loves you even more than she loves _me_. She'll come back. She can't do anything without you."

XXX

**A/N: I'm going to be honest; the bit with Max was not in the original draft. But, I saw how I'd built a bit of a bond between him and Mary and how well you guys responded to it, and so I did a little rewrite several days ago. I don't tend to alter too much for the readers, but I went for it on this front.**

**I also hope you'll be able to suspend a tad bit of disbelief that, even with an entire team of Marshals in the house, Norah hasn't been found yet. Where would the drama be otherwise? ;)**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Thank-you for the reviews! You guys have bumped me up over 100 by a long shot, so that earns you a big thumbs up LOL!**

XXX

The waiting became so lethargic; Mary thought she must've slipped the other direction. She was losing her mind with the lack-of-news even just another hour in – rounding the bases to four. She refused to move from her position on the couch, contenting herself with a blank gaze on Robyn and Max playing in the backyard. Peter had arrived to keep an eye on them so Joanna and Brandi could stay near the rest of the group, although for what Mary had no idea.

Her stomach was twisting more violently with every second that ticked on, wracking her brain for anywhere she thought Norah might've gone, but they'd had somebody check out every pathetic suggestion she offered – the elementary, the swimming pool – but she was nowhere. She longed for Marshall to come, knowing Stan had forgotten to call with Brandi's appearance, but she couldn't make herself voice the reminder. It was her fault they were in this mess; her fault for driving Marshall to the brink; her fault her daughter was out there alone trying to repair something she couldn't understand. Because Mary hadn't helped her to understand.

Fortunately, the quiet persisted with Jinx and Joanna sharing tea, Brandi keeping whatever thoughts she might have to herself, Mark mingling among it all with nothing constructive to say. That was until Stan made the mistake of bringing up the prior mentioned alert when he was anywhere within earshot. He leaned close to Mary's ear where she was still glued to the couch, but he obviously didn't want it to _look_ like a secret, and Mark heard every word.

"We can discuss our options on that alert again if you want…"

Mary shook her head, knowing Mark had been guarding with a critical eye, praying Stan would get the message, but it made no difference. Her ex had heard exactly what he'd needed to and seized the opportunity – hook, line, and sinker.

"Alert?" he questioned sharply from the other side of the coffee table, making Stan straighten and turn to face him. "What alert? Like an Amber Alert?"

The old chief sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked to Mary for any kind of leeway. She didn't know what to do. This was bad for her either way and so she just shrugged and covered her eyes with her hand, preparing herself for what sort of avalanche Mark was going to drop on her now.

"An Amber Alert is strictly for abductions," Stan explained. "But, as of an hour ago we were given the go-ahead to place a different one; it would get the word out just the same – definitely local, possibly national, although that's sketchy at best…" he continued his spiel but Mark pounced.

"What do you mean?" he fired up. "An _hour_ ago? What have we been doing sitting around here? Why didn't we do it?" he looked at Mary for the answer.

She stood up now, knowing there was no way Stan or anyone else could fight this battle for her. Jinx and Joanna left their posts in the kitchen, stopping halfway to see where they might be needed to intervene.

"Mark, there are risks…" she implored, silently begging for him to understand. Stan stepped aside so she could get a good look at him, only the table separating the pair. "There's no telling who could find her if they know she's out there by herself…"

"How is _anybody_ going to find her?" he burst angrily. "If we don't let them know! Put one out – I am telling you to put one out!" he spoke directly to Stan, who just stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. He wasn't going to do it until he got the green light from Mary.

"Mark, my job; Marshall's job…" she wanted to stay cool, but knew even as she said it that this was only going to infuriate him more. "I know you don't know what we do, but just handing Norah's name to the public is a huge mistake…"

"I don't give a flying f-!"

"MARK!" Joanna knew where that was going, shrill and loud over the cursing to get him to ease up.

"—About your job!" he finished, lucky there was a table between them so they weren't so close. "_My_ daughter is out there _by herself_ – alone – with _no one_ to watch over her and you are standing here expecting me to care that you could lose your maternity compensation if we let people know she's lost! You don't even work anymore!"

"Mark, that's enough!" Joanna was determined to quiet him, dashing over and Jinx copied her movements, trying to placate her own child but Mary had none of it. "This is not Mary's fault! She's as upset as you are!"

Mark had no tolerance for this and kept right on going, clearly relishing the opportunity to let out more of his fears on his ex-wife. Mary couldn't blame him for being distressed – she was furious at herself as well – but she wished he'd quit yelling. Her level of energy for fighting back was not at a high and she felt bad enough as it was.

"I want to know what you and Marshall were fighting about!" Mark commanded. "Tell me what…!"

"Norah doesn't even know!" Mary informed him, just a hint of snide in her tone now. "Why we fought is not why she left! She must think Marshall's not coming back or something, but I told her that he was and he will be here, he just…" her sentence was becoming run-on, the whole ordeal looking much more frightening with her unable to pin down the man himself, let alone her child; they'd never find Norah if they didn't get Marshall.

"Where the hell is he?" Mark grabbed hold of her last excuse at once, and Joanna must've thought he was really going to go off the rails, because she tugged at his arm.

"I want you to come outside with me and take a break…"

"I don't know where he is; he's working – he'll be here as soon as he knows what's going on…" Mary insisted, wondering with every pulse in her veins if that was going to be the case.

"Because that's what you two know how to do, isn't it?" Mark was going out on a limb now, and Mary really couldn't wait to hear it; she couldn't wait to have a reason to throttle him for as awful as he was making her feel. "Work. Work-work-work-work! To hell with time and space and people and friends and God knows what else – so long as you get to keep your fancy Marshal title you're happy…"

"You said yourself I'm not even working anymore, douche bag! I did that so I could take care of our-!"

"_My_ daughter doesn't seem to be reaping the benefits of having a mother in law enforcement, because she's still missing, now isn't she!"

"Quit doing that!" Mary shouted, not expecting him to know what she meant; Stan and Jinx and Joanna were formless figures in the corners of her eyes now. Mark was all she saw.

"Doing what?"

"That '_my daughter_' shit!"

"Well, if it had been up to you I wouldn't even have known I had a daughter, so we'll see how you enjoy it when Norah shows up and…!"

The warning didn't finish itself out, because Joanna saw the tears glimmering and shining in Mary's eyes at being punished so severely. She'd had enough.

"Mark, I don't want to hear another word – you sit down and shut up right now or get outside and cool off!" his mother boomed in very best Principal Stuber voice, taking him around the shoulders and forcing him into the nearest chair, where he slumped down roughly. "I raised you better than to go around hurling insults and empty threats because you're worried," she claimed boldly. "You pipe down; you hear?"

She didn't wait for Mark to agree, but instead turned and threw Mary a pitying look, who was having her hair rubbed by Jinx. She was shaking again, her skin tingling with Mark's asserting himself, saying in not-so-many words he wanted to take Norah away. She knew he'd never do it; she knew why he was acting like this; she used to behave the same way under pressure. But the idea was enough to bring on the tears, even the idea that she was a bad enough mother she deserved to have her daughter snatched out from under her.

She was mortified about crying so openly, even if it was just a few tears. Mark stated to look marginally guilty behind Joanna's towering form, but nothing could break her like what came out of her mouth next.

"Put out the alert…" she spoke to Stan, who was still nearby, voice quaking almost as much as the rest of her.

Stan nodded, "Okay…" however uncertainly.

"But…" Mary sniffled, trying to sound pathetically businesslike, but it fooled no one. "Release her under Norah Sheppard…" she swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut which made more tears leak out; she could see that face on her television screen and it was ripping apart every bone in her body. "I told her once – a long time ago…"

None of this was going to make sense anymore.

"That if someone came knocking…"

She was going to start crying too hard for it to matter.

"Norah Sheppard, I mean…I don't know if she'll remember…"

She probably wouldn't. Not when Mary couldn't remember anything right now either. Everything else came in a fleet; a long and blurry single phrase. She was just trying to get out all the details before the tears overcame her, because she knew Stan would need the rest of the specifics.

"Her hair is blonde down to her waist, her eyes are brown, her complexion is fair because she burns in the summer, she doesn't have any freckles or birthmarks that anyone would see, I don't know what she was wearing when she left, maybe her pajamas…"

"Angel…"

"Mark will get you a photo…"

With that as her final word, thinking she'd covered all the bases, she turned and bolted for the bathroom to continual shouts and pleas that she come back, but she knew she was going to be sick. This last action was too much and she knew she was going to be seriously ill. But, it didn't stop her from hearing all the efforts for her return.

"Sweetheart, please…" Jinx.

"Honey, we'll take care of it…" Joanna.

"Mare, wait…" even Mark, ready to back down.

She shut them all up the minute she made it to her bedroom and slammed the door. She was tripping and falling her way into the bathroom, turning the light on, before she slammed that door too and flicked the faucet on full blast, a habit so no one would hear her bawling. Then she fell to her knees on the hard, cold, but nonetheless familiar linoleum. She hung her head, waiting to spill everything from a gut that was spinning and twisting feverishly, certain any second now she was going to throw up a week's worth of meals. The concept of the Amber Alert, even under some pseudonym, had pushed her over the edge. It was as real as it was going to be.

But, all that came out from within were tears. She was gushing, streaking her face top-to-bottom with agonized and ridiculously noisy sobs; she shivered and squeaked and saw droplets _plunk_ into the toilet, hands on the seat. They fell one by one, creating ripples in the clear water below; her breathing was so hoarse and so fast it was moving the tide.

Mary reflected as she knelt there, overcome with grief, that nothing in her life had yet to cloak her so heavily, so unbearably, as this right here. It was far and away a thousand times worse than anything else she'd ever been through – James leaving her on the doorstep, James _showing up_ on the doorstep, James dying on the dirty ground. Worse than being abducted, being shot, Marshall being shot, Brandi lying unconscious on the operating table, Jinx drunk and disorderly a hundred times over.

Nothing prompted such an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and loss for her little girl whose mother had failed to take care of her; who had as much as sent her out there when she was fully unable to watch over herself. It was as though someone had reached in and ripped her heart clean out of her ribcage and she was bleeding uncontrollably with no end in sight; the hole in her chest one that could never be sewn back together.

Mary did not know how long she crouched there, heavy tears replacing anything that might be swirling in her belly, before she heard the knock on the door. It was not harried, but resolute in its rhythm.

"Mare?" the tone was hoarse and scratchy like sandpaper. "Mary, please let me in…"

It was Brandi, and Mary only just realized through her foggy, muddled existence that her little sister had been extremely quiet through the entire tribulation. She was not offering pointless advice, trying to put a band-aid on the problem; she'd just milled around, a stable force among the chaos.

Fairly certain she'd been sitting long enough that anything that was going to come up would've done so already, Mary somehow made it to her feet, but reached far to turn the knob, allowing Brandi admittance from the other side of the bathroom. Her little sister's head peered cautiously around the frame, calling softly.

"Mary?"

She saw her leaning against the wall, face blotchy, red, and tearstained, and invited herself all the way inside, intelligent enough to close the door behind her. Without asking or waiting for approval, Brandi stepped over to the elder sister and gathered her gently into her arms.

The rush of affection Mary felt for her in that moment was one she hadn't experienced since Robyn had been born. She was taller, and so her chin rested over Brandi's back, but her crossed forearms hid her mouth from view of anyone else who might come in. Hiccups and squeaks persisted in the second overflow of tears, and Brandi ran a hand up and down her back hearing the noise from the other side.

"I'm here," Brandi whispered eventually, using the same hand to squeeze her shoulder. "I'm here."

Mary didn't know why, but being able to cling to her baby sister, like her feet were stuck hard and solidly to the ground, where all she had to do was clutch – it was a comfort. Not a big one, considering everything that was going on, but a comfort nonetheless. Despite how it might be helping, however, Mary eventually slipped away, feeling just a little too suffocated to hang on much longer. Her eyes found the ground, ashamed by nature of wearing her heart on her sleeve, but Brandi reached over and brushed a few stray tears away with her index finger. It was sweet in its simplicity.

"Stan got a hold of Marshall," she revealed quietly, and relief washed Mary like a wave; new life was breathed into every crevice of her body, even for just a moment. "He's on his way right now."

Mary nodded fervently and for several minutes until she actually croaked something, "Okay."

Brandi segued quickly into something else, "Come here; sit down…" she actually took her hand and guided her, a gesture that was blind to Mary until it was actually happening. Noticing the open seat on the toilet, she shut it but couldn't resist asking the question, "Were you sick?"

Mary shook her head as she lowered herself down slowly, "No." But then, she elaborated without meaning to, "But, it hurts – my belly," she clarified with a rather loud sniffle. "Across the middle."

This conversation was achingly familiar to when Brandi had been going into labor with Robyn, but Mary knew this was nothing like that. She knew it was exactly what Brandi said it was.

"You're stressing yourself out," she declared softly. "You'll feel better when Marshall gets here."

Maybe. Maybe. Those unvoiced 'maybe's' carried Mary through a very long silence, where she just wept quietly, the tears feeling round and almost drowning in the corners of her eyes; her face was sticky and hot from so much all at once. Brandi just stood there against the wall, leaning, shuffling, examining her nails.

But, when it was plain Mary came together just enough, she couldn't stop herself from moving forward.

"Do you want to talk to me?"

Mary asked because she was genuinely curious, "About what?"

"What happened with you and Marshall? I know Norah didn't run off because of it, but you have been acting strange lately; I didn't know something was going on with the two of you," Brandi whispered. "I just thought you were getting nervous about the baby."

Mary shook her head, running her palm up and down her cheek, onto her forehead, sweeping her bangs aside, trying to find some measure that was soothing, but nothing worked. Her skin was flushed, her eyes were stinging, her stomach was in knots – none of it was going away.

"Marshall…" she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "Marshall wants to get married," her voice was flat and underused; it had a strange, otherworldly sort of echo in the small bathroom. "He's been on this kick for awhile, but I think the baby coming has made him…" a gulp. "Anxious, I guess, to make things official…"

Brandi just nodded, giving Mary a chance to keep going, for which she was grateful. It would've been hard to start again.

"And, the abbreviated version here is that we have fought about it several times this past week, and last night he got fed-up and left."

"Why were you fighting about it?" Brandi murmured quietly, no press or push evident in her tone. "Do you not want to get married?"

Mary wanted to shake her head, but had to settle for shrugging, which made her shoulders tremor another time. She was lost here. She did not know what she wanted at all. She wanted Norah. That was all she wanted.

This seemed like as good an answer as any, "I don't want a wedding; I want Norah here where she belongs…"

Another onslaught of tears was coming, but Mary managed to bury most of them with an enormous swallow that made her throat feel constricted. There were no words, letters, or syllables in the English language that explained away her not wanting to marry Marshall – not when it had taken them to this horrific level of Norah going missing. Whatever reasoning she'd drilled into her brain was irrelevant at this point; it had driven her daughter to the brink, and that wasn't worth anything.

Brandi seemed to sense the question was hard for her because she craned her neck over Mary's droopy form and rubbed her knee lightly, clearly a little surprised at how the older took to the affection. It was the touch that opened her up.

"Squish, I don't know what to do," she admitted with violent sorrow. "I don't know what to do _at all_ – about Marshall – but about Norah…" it was going to make her bawl again. "I've hated so many people in my time, Brandi, but I don't know that the worst criminals, even the ones that get twenty-five-to-life…" it was an exaggeration, but she didn't care right now. "I don't know that even they deserve this. I lost my child. I don't know where she is. That's all I can think about, and if I could _think_ like a normal person I might come up with an actual coherent idea about where she took off for, but I…"

"Mare, cut yourself some slack," Brandi interrupted eventually, thinking she'd been far away long enough. She stepped over to the sink and grabbed one of the many paper cups on the counter, filling one with water. "Drink…" she ordered, handing the beverage over before going on. "You're confused and insanely worried; if something comes to you, it'll come…"

Mary rubbed her hands together after downing the water in one gulp and replacing the cup to the counter. She nodded, but she didn't know why. She didn't know why she was doing anything. Her world had been rocked, turned upside-down and dumped out all over the floor. When was it going to make sense again?

Brandi jumped onto the counter, lifting herself with her hands so that her feet knocked into the cabinets below. For a moment, she almost slipped into the sink, but managed to get situated before going on.

"About Marshall…" she initiated, and Mary wanted to tell her she was done with that, but Brandi was determined to say her piece. "Mare, I don't know what to tell you, so I probably shouldn't try. I don't know if you're scared, if you don't think it'll work, if you're not in love – which I really-_really_ doubt, by the way…"

If she hadn't been so miserable, Mary might've laughed but instead she kept still and waited for the rest of Brandi's speech.

"But, I just…"

Her younger sister sighed and cocked her head, eyes of clear and crystal blue compassionate, understanding on her green ones. She looked strangely mature – older – sitting on the counter like she was above her.

"Don't…be like me," she finished in a hushed voice. And before Mary could express how disorienting such a phrase was, she found there was more, "Don't waste your first chance with a guy who loves you, just because you see yourself as this abandoned, worthless little girl that'll never change – that can never be 'better' than the hand you were dealt way too young."

Mary was astonished, and very likely was not doing a good job of keeping such an emotion off her face. Of all people, it was _Brandi_ who had guessed. And the longer she thought about it, the less surprising it was. Brandi had run from Peter thinking she didn't deserve him; it took a last-minute rendezvous named Robyn for a second courtship and a moppet named Max.

Still though, the older sister thought it was probably important she put up the façade, at least for a moment.

"I don't think he sees me, Squish…" she shook her head, blinking to try and clear her mind. "Not for who I really am."

Brandi shifted and tucked a leg underneath her, "What do you think he sees?"

A million things that Mary wasn't. How to put it into words? How was she expected to be functioning at all, to talk about this like a rational person? She felt more out-of-control than she ever had in her life.

"Just…I don't know…" pressing her palms onto her knees, striving for clarity that wasn't coming. "He carried this version of me around with him for eight years; this woman he loved, this woman he couldn't have. And then we got together and…" she fed her sister a look that clearly said she was misplaced here. "How am I supposed to measure up to whatever he saw in me all that time? It's just like daddy – he had this idea about me, and it was never good enough; it never changed anything…"

"Mary, he loves _you_; not some imagined picture…" Brandi insisted, but the other was forced to cut her off.

"But I've changed so much for him; I've tried so hard to be a better person and it's not who I am!"

"Yes, it is," Brandi sounded awfully certain, no hesitation whatsoever. "Who you are now is who you've always been. You showed it in a different way...back before Marshall or whatever you want to call it," she tossed that aside in favor of more important matters. "The fact that you care, that you want to help people, that you're strong and independent and self-assured; it's always been there," only an admiring baby sister could make it seem so good. "The fact that it's softer now – that's Marshall and Norah bringing it out in you. It's absolutely who you are, Mary. I promise."

Mary wanted to argue – or a part of her did, anyway – but she was exhausted and didn't fancy making the effort to beat herself down, not when the situation at hand was already doing as much for her. She'd rarely heard Brandi sound so confident about anything in her life; there wasn't even a wavering in the tone of such conviction.

"Mare, I think you confuse not always being a…" a wince and a half-smile. "Well, I guess a _nice_ person…" she managed. "With not being a _good_ person. You are a good person, whether you're nice all the time or not. Doesn't it say something about you – about both of you – that Marshall was the one who noticed?"

Mary had nothing else to say to that. She was speechless. What could she possibly utter that would legitimately refute, disprove, or contradict Brandi's explanation of her life right in front of her? Brandi was one she couldn't hide from on this; she knew how they operated. They were the Shannon women, and none too different despite what they projected on the exterior.

"When he sees you like this, it's not gonna matter anyway…" Brandi hopped down off the counter, stretching her legs while Mary continued to sniffle. "He's crazy about Norah; he's gonna do everything he can to get her back."

The reveal spilled from Mary's lips without her consent. It just came out, unplanned and spontaneous. Her brain had so clearly shut down.

"I'm having a girl."

Brandi definitely started, whipping around, "Huh?" not sure she'd heard correctly.

She took two deep breaths, catching a tear underneath her eyelid with her finger as Brandi wandered back her direction, standing directly in front of where she sat.

"The baby…" she whispered, feeling her face redden now that she had to say it again. "It's a girl. Marshall and I found out on Saturday. He was so…ecstatic…"

She couldn't hold in the tightness wound around her chest; it was like barbed wire. She gasped hard and fast as the image of Marshall's face appeared in her mind's-eye; that perpetual, charming smile at the thought of his own daughter. His own Norah. And how proud he'd been about telling Stan and Lia. How proud he'd been period. Before Mary had gone and ruined everything.

Brandi, however, gave her a warm and optimistic smile at the news and pulled her in sideways once more, patting her back now rather than rubbing it. Her chin was sharp – bony – on the top of Mary's head and it was shadowy pressed so tight in her sister's ribcage.

"That's so great…" Brandi said from above, trying to make lemonade out of lemons just like always. "Marshall is so sweet with little girls…"

Mary wanted to tell her to stop talking, because it was making her well up again, but there was the sound of a door opening beyond their sanctuary and Brandi stepped back, perking her ears to listen. To Mary, it was a noise from out in the living room, meaning it was probably the front door. Just as soon as she thought it, however, one much closer gave its telltale creak, meaning someone was in the bedroom. Mary panicked, wanting to see no one; wanting to stay in here where it was safe. Fortunately, Brandi saw the look and got down to business.

"Hang on…" she held up a finger and eased open their hatch ever so slightly to peer out.

Mary expected her to slip behind the frame, to leave her by her lonesome and get rid of whatever bad-news-bearer waited on the other side, but that wasn't what happened at all.

"Hi…" she whispered, like Mary had taken to her bed, and she also stepped aside to allow more room.

"Is she…?"

"Yeah, she's in here…" a pause. "She's okay…"

Before Mary could put together all the pieces, before the whirlwind of phrases and voices and reassurances came to a halt, Brandi let the door swing open all the way.

And there he was. Lines drawn around his beautiful blue eyes, hair uncharacteristically limp on top, stubble on his chin. Black slacks and a dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves. Weary, worn, tired, but steadfast. Firm, fixed, solid, dependable, unyielding. The epitome of grace under pressure. Calm.

Marshall.

Mary just stared to make sure she was really seeing him – eyes wide and watery, cheeks pink, her own hair limp and matted around her face. Among the rosy patches, she was ashen from expecting to lose anything she'd ever eaten. Worn out and strung apart from crying.

That was something that was not going to end any time soon. Brandi soundlessly side-stepped the man and disappeared, practically out of thin air. And the minute she was gone, Mary was up – she was striding the length of the bathroom, she was back in the bedroom, she was collapsing in Marshall's waiting arms, fully ready to be taken in and loved.

She was sobbing all over again, for a wide variety, a multitude of reasons. For Norah, for letting Marshall down, for Mark hurting her feelings, for causing everyone this misfortune. But Marshall assumed it only came from one place, and his hands were so soft as they kneaded her sore back with her eyes buried in the fabric on his shirt. The kiss he left on her hair was so gentle, so light, and so fluttering. Even among the pandemonium raging in her insides, the loud yet muffled cries she intoned in his chest, Mary knew there was only one thing left she wanted more than this.

"Breathe…" he finally said quietly with a particularly rough squeeze of her muscles. "Breathe. Deep breath."

Mary nodded against him. Whether she could obey was another story, but it made no difference. He kept right on going.

"We will find her."

Why did she believe it when he said it?

"We will find her. She is out there, and we will find her."

Another shaky nod as she surfaced and gulped, mopping her slick cheeks. Marshall allowed her only a moment of this as he pressed one of those cheeks back to his chest so her profile rested there – so she could see the outside world. And after Stan, Mary knew it was her turn to say something.

"I'm so sorry," she sounded like a foghorn against his ribcage, registering in the back of her mind that apologizing twice in one day had to be some sort of record. "What I did, what I said…"

"Hush," Marshall was almost scolding. "Uncouth though you were, I still love you. I was aggravated, but none of that matters right now," he threaded his fingers through her hair, and Mary basked in the softness of his shirt on her warm cheeks. "Norah is what matters."

"We have to find her…" Mary blubbered, repeating his words, seeped with a feeling weightlessness at hearing a measure of forgiveness.

"We're US Marshals, that's what we do," Marshall reminded her steadily. "We find people."

"No, we don't…" it was the first thing with which Mary could disagree. "We're WITSEC inspectors…"

It was so pleasantly temperate in his chest as the tears soaked into her skin.

"We protect people."

XXX

**A/N: Well, Marshall has arrived! So hopefully that will help you loyal readers if I continue to drag this out. ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I have to give a shout-out to JMS; I never thought to use Mark's name for Norah's alias, but that would've be a great idea!**

XXX

Marshall was as efficient as Mary had ever seen him. After a suitable period of being permitted her little freak-out, he steered her over to the bed and sat her down, guiding her to sit up against the pillows, propping them as he did so. She let him do what he wanted, so relieved to have someone to take charge. Of course, this left her alone to worry, but nonetheless. She couldn't do both at the same time.

As soon as she was settled with her feet up and not crying so heavily, Marshall took a place on the bed himself – and not beside her, but in front, directly to her right and perched on his knees. It was all in the preparation. His blue eyes were different now; a whirling eddy, a vortex that was set on uncovering the mystery. It was the best 'Marshal' face he possessed.

"We're just gonna talk here…" he said evenly, and Mary nodded at once, readying herself for whatever his plan might be. "We're gonna work through it. We're gonna work through it together."

"All right…" she said huskily, her right hand roving along her lower belly just out of habit from the continual ache she was beginning to feel there.

Marshall's focus divided momentarily as his eyes flicked to that hand, "Are you okay?"

Mary nodded, but told the truth, "I haven't been feeling that well…" he knew she meant physically.

"You having pain?" the distraction turned a little more elongated and his fingers weaved with hers, feeling the same spot she did, but unable to detect the sensation within.

"Some…" she sniffled, not caring to discuss it. "It's not bad; it's the stress. At least I know I can keep this one safe for a little while longer," this was her way of telling Marshall to move on; her situation was hardly life-threatening, and she was ready to get down to business.

Fortunately, he knew her well enough to realize and reverted to a cross-legged position, but was no less intense.

"Tell me what happened last night after I left," he began seriously. "Just walk me through it. I'm sure you've gone over it in your mind ad nauseam since this morning, but we're gonna lay the groundwork here; talk it out…" he persisted, in witness-mode to the full extent. "You know the drill; no detail is too small."

Mary nodded for the third time and closed her eyes. She tried to shut everything else away, tried to clear her mind to see the words and pictures; the flashes and phrases and gestures that would lead her to the finish line. It took her a moment and several more deep breaths before she thought she was as empty as she was likely to get. She doubted much could stop the jittery, shuttering feeling that quivered in all her limbs – not until her daughter was back safe and sound.

When she opened her lids, Marshall was just waiting. Just waiting. Expectant, but not overbearing. He wanted so badly to help. When he saw her struggling to begin, he picked up her hand and simply held it in his own.

"Mark brought Norah back to the house about a half hour after you'd gone…" she started to say. "She told me about Mark taking her to that water park…" she was going to have to be strong here; she was going to have to stay focused and not let those final moments with her daughter become overwhelming. "And about the rides they went on…"

Marshall nodded patiently.

"And she went to the cabinet…to get cookies, I think…"

It got harder and Mary was forced to close her eyes again, to continue to exhale in order to keep from becoming a mess. Marshall was so tolerant, even in the blackness, the gold spots that were bursting in front of her vision; he just conducted her on through.

"It's fine…" he assured her gently, squeezing that hand now. "It's fine; take your time."

How much time did they have?

"I um…" her tone trembled a little with that last thought, but she managed to keep things in motion. "I um…I was upset that you'd gone and Mark noticed…" she recalled with the promise of a few more seconds. "Norah didn't, not at first I don't think…"

"You would've known if she had picked up on it," Marshall murmured kindly. "You would've known."

Mary was not sure this was true, but she appreciated the faith nonetheless.

"Did Mark say anything to you?" he prompted as a means to spark something in her brain. "Anything she might've overheard or taken the wrong way?"

"Just that…he thought I looked like I'd been crying…"

Mary had said it without thinking, without imagining how it might make Marshall feel. When she looked directly at him again, his eyes had altered in their appearance yet another time. Now they were sad – disappointed. Ashamed and a more sky blue than usual.

"You were crying?" he whispered in a low voice that did not conceal his guilt. "I made you cry?"

"Marshall, its okay…" Mary promised, not wanting to waste valuable time dancing around that. "It's okay. I really don't think Norah noticed; she was all the way across the room and whining about how she couldn't get the cookies open."

Marshall swallowed hard, also doing his part to keep his emotions in check, and resolved to stay in power for the time being.

"What happened next?"

Mary screwed up her mind some more, trying to squelch that overpowering feeling that her brain was smashed hard and tight against her skull, forcing out more of what had gone on the night before. She had to come up with something useful. She had to.

"Uh…" she sighed, knowing that she was still weeping slightly without even realizing it; she was used to the dampness for the time being. "She…she was sitting on the stool at the island, but I can't…" she wanted to hit herself in the head for her inability to recall. "I can't remember why…"

Almost as quickly as she chastised herself for it though, the answer came. She knew now. It was that feeling of Norah's tiny little fingers on her rounded belly that brought the memory to the forefront.

"I told her about the baby," she confessed, even knowing this would not help anything; just grateful she knew she wasn't forgetting anything important.

"That it's a girl?" Marshall got his confirmation, eyebrows raised.

"Mmm hmm…" she wondered if he'd be angry and hurried to rectify things. "I'm sorry; I don't know if you…"

"It-it's not a problem," he stuttered, and even though he was a tad incoherent, he seemed sincere in his guarantees. But, Mary could tell by the way he was biting on his lower lip that he wanted to delve a little deeper, even if it would be of no assistance to them. "How did she feel when you told her?" his voice dropped significantly in his desperation to know.

Mary shrugged, falling back on her daughter's touch rather than her words. She'd behaved as though the whole thing was very mundane, but when the tips of those six-year-old fingers had brushed her belly, felt the beating heart of the child within, it had been different. There had been excitement there, somehow, someway.

"I think she was happy…" Mary informed him a voice of forced calm. "Liked the idea of being an older sister to a sister."

Marshall bobbed his head, but was single-minded to keep the flow in progress, "Keep going," he encouraged.

As evenly as possible, Mary took him through Norah's experience with the bump, Mark's sweet bliss over the situation, her getting him to the door and finally spilling the beans on why she looked so bedraggled. She was careful there, being mindful not to leave out anything she could hold onto, but couldn't help the feeling that it was of no support whatsoever. Marshall was quiet, calculating; he had on his best inquisitive face, rubbing his temple in thought. Mary began to wonder if it was an act until he stopped her when she was almost through.

"That's what you said?" he interrupted. "When she asked where I went; you said…"

"No…" Mary shook her head, cursing her mistake. "She didn't ask where you went," that couldn't be, not when they had no definitive location. "She asked…if you left and I told her you had, but…"

She couldn't do it. What had come next? Why couldn't what might possibly be very vital little letters float into her brain? Her memory was better than this; she was better at picking out the miniscule details and now, when it mattered most of all, she couldn't do it. She was failing - as if she had not failed enough already. It was like sand through the hourglass; water sliding from her cupped hands. It should've been so clear, and it was wholly cluttered.

"I don't know, Marshall…I can't…" it was infinitely frustrating; so frustrating she might cry again, but she settled for running her hand along her abdomen once more, willing the hurt away. "I can't remember. Damn it…"

"It's all right," he promised. "You didn't know you needed to remember. You were probably concentrating on making sure Norah wasn't scared or upset or lonely; that she knew you loved her, and…"

"I did say that!" Mary suddenly burst, a little louder than she meant to but she was boosted by her epiphany. "I did! I said that I loved her, that you loved her, that you loved the baby…"

"All true…" Marshall pushed quietly.

It was coming in a fleet, "I said that after I told her we needed some room or space or time…" Mary was rattling off all the words she could think of, hoping one would stick. "I can't remember which, but it was something like that…"

"Okay…"

"And I…I…" it was very odd how going backwards made it easier; she would never have guessed as much, but it was coming in droves, like her mind was on rewind. "I said you'd gone because you needed the space to think!" she might've snapped her fingers. "That's what I said! I said you needed to think because she asked what you needed to think about!"

Mary was breathless from her small victory, and Marshall was nodding as though he understood, "That makes sense, because that's what I said to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Mary began to chew her thumbnail, wheels whirring trying to get an answer out of all that; she'd already filled Marshall in on the whole 'can I fix it?' portion, which hadn't garnered anything yet.

But the longer they sat there, contemplating, considering possibilities, turning over every angle imaginable; Mary was pretty sure Marshall was having the same feeling she was. The air in her bubble of hope was evaporating as quickly as it had inflated; it was losing oxygen, losing its longevity. Nothing she'd said gave them any clues. It was a nonentity. All she'd done was yank it out from the dustiest corners of her brain. And for what?

"We can do something with this…" Marshall spoke up as though he were reading her mind and did not want her to lose her spirit. "We can. I can make some calls…"

The remainder of the sentence was chased out of him by a rapping knock on the door. He jumped slightly and turned, although he obviously could not see who was there. Rotating back around to face Mary, he asked with only raised eyebrows if she was up for a visitor. Resigned, she made herself nod. She might as well do it now while she felt even marginally better.

"Yeah, come in!" Marshall bellowed.

The knob turned – cautiously, tentatively – and around the corner came a very nervous, squirmy-looking Mark. He had his hands in his pockets and immediately leaned on the wall with his entrance, shuffling his feet, glancing to the bed and back down again.

"Could I have a second?" he eventually asked of Marshall, jerking his head at the form of Mary semi-relaxed on the bed. "I won't be long; I just…" his eyes were with Mary's now.

His ex didn't especially want to be alone with him, but he seemed to have mellowed out a little bit and she knew Marshall would understand. He would sympathize with both sides of the coin, even after Mark had been so blunt and rude. Compressing Mary's knee, he spoke in an undertone before departing the bedroom.

"I'll make some calls," he fell back on from earlier. "Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Thank-you."

Marshall gave a reassuring nod and swung his feet over the side of the bed to get up, sauntering toward the door. On his way out, he even clapped Mark on the shoulder to show they were in this together and Mark offered him a weak smile before shutting the door, leaving the pair of them in silence.

Mary, however, did not want to look entirely vulnerable – not after what had happened earlier – and took her turn at standing up, straightening her top and attempting to appear adult. She knew Marshall would not like her readying herself for a fight, but she was bound and determined not to have another episode like before.

However, it was plain that Mark had turned over a new leaf. He was already beckoning with his hand before she was halfway to her feet.

"Mare, come here…" he wiggled his fingers. "Come over here."

She had no good response and just did what he said, right in front of him in about three steps. Without further ado, he took her by the shoulders and stared straight into her eyes, tipped her forward just slightly, and laid a kiss right in the center of her forehead. The contact made him feel sweet again.

When he came to look at her once more, his hands didn't leave her shoulders. His brown eyes were back to their boyish quality, not without that haranguing worry that lingered in his innocence.

"I'm sorry," he said plainly, copying her mantra. "Very sorry. You did not deserve what I said to you."

"I've heard worse," Mary tried to shake it off, built of tougher stuff than his insults.

"Maybe so," Mark shrugged. "But, we're not just supposed to be co-parents, Mare. I thought we were…" he hedged, gripping her shoulder a little harder now. "I mean…" it was obvious the word was going to come out tasting very strange on his tongue, but he powered through. "I think we're friends. And if I were your friend I wouldn't be saying those things; making threats…"

"People say things when they're scared, Mark," she didn't want to let him completely off the hook, but their thoughts were better directed elsewhere at the moment. "God knows I have – more times that I really want to count."

"We can start keeping a tally for each other," he teased blandly, hoping to get a smile out of her; he did seem apologetic. "Think I might give you a run for your money on your list come the end of the month, kid."

Mary gave him what he was asking for – the grin – but it was followed by another nervous bite on her bottom lip, with her eyes blinking fast somewhere beyond his. They were trying to cover up the horror they were both still feeling, but the leeway they gave each other; the poor jokes; all of it was a very thin blanket for what was raging in each soul. They, above anyone else, should be in this together. Norah was _their_ child – fifty-fifty, half-and-half, down the line.

Mark allowed one hand to fall from his direct pose and slid the other down Mary's arm so they were slightly more casual before he went on.

"I don't want to make an excuse here…" he started to say. "But, lately; with you having another kid on the way…" his head jerked to her belly, where the pain had receded just a little. "And Norah getting older…"

Mary's eyes skirted around, trying to hold his with hers, trying to get to the bottom of wherever this was headed, but she was lost. All she could do was hang on tight and hope he'd start making sense soon.

"I don't resent either one of you – you or Marshall," he backtracked, trying to cover himself. "You are a great mom, and I'm happy for you, and I really couldn't ask for a better man than Marshall to be raising Norah when I'm not around…"

They were getting near it now, Mary was fairly certain. She might even be able to guess without Mark's help, but he obviously felt it was prudent to finish.

"But, it's just hard…" he shook his head and stepped back, like he was already regretting having spoken. "To see my d…" he coughed, cleared his throat as he realized what he'd been about to say, knowing how badly Mary had taken to it earlier. "To see my little girl so taken with another guy – one she'd fly the coop for. I mean, clearly, I'm screwing something up here; what am I compared to Marshall?"

It was the absence of malice and true misunderstanding inching its way in that made Mary see that it was her turn to be sympathetic – her turn to offer a shoulder and a consoling word or two.

"Mark, she loves you…" Mary breathed, the best source of wisdom she had. "You're her father," he might need the reminder. "You're her daddy. You can't be replaced. Believe me, I of all people know that a substitute for a flesh-and-blood parent just doesn't equate."

"I know that…" he clutched her forearm once more, pinching lightly. "Most of the time. I know that."

"Good…" Mary nodded, knowing today of all days didn't bring out the best or most rational thoughts in any of them. "Because she'd 'fly the coop' for you too – for any of us. I'm thinking its how she's wired."

Mark smiled sadly, weaving his arm around her back and pecking her cheek just one more time. Pulling away, Mary was startled to see the tears in his eyes.

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

XXX

**A/N: You all probably hate me for stringing this out, but I hope you'll stick around! Love to you all! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Judging by the reviews, my cleverness of Norah's hiding place is not going to be heavily touted LOL! It's okay; I like attentive readers. ;)**

XXX

Mary's small break from the terror that wreaked havoc on her mind and body was fairly short-lived. Despite being thrilled to have Marshall home, Brandi's understanding, Mark's consideration; none of it changed the very real pit into which they'd fallen. The afternoon waged very slowly onward, eclipsing its way toward night come six o'clock and there was nary a flicker of news. It was throwing Mary into agony the likes of which she had never experienced, and it was as physically harmful as any gunshot wound she had ever received.

As much as she wanted Marshall by her side, she was counting on him to do the work she couldn't manage herself, and so she contented herself with Mark. There was something symbolic about them holed up together, as neither refused to leave the confines of the bedroom once quarantined inside. It set them apart; seemingly helping both not to be privy to the chaos beyond the door.

As far as Mary knew, Jinx, Joanna, and Brandi were still there – Peter and the kids too, she assumed. Stan had stayed for a little while, but eventually left with Delia to head up the office. Charlie, it seemed, was really having his work cut out for him at the Sunshine Building. According to Delia, he'd been running around like a chicken with his head cut off most of the day trying to keep WITSEC from falling apart.

Mary knew she was starting to lose it again when the sun began to go down. It would be dark soon. Norah would be out there, alone and helpless, by herself in the dark. She wouldn't be able to see where she was going. She wouldn't see if someone unknown and menacing came poking around wherever she was stationed – assuming someone had not done as much already, a thought too horrible for Mary to contemplate.

Mark had taken to letting her rest her head on his chest where they both lay on the bed, a gesture that was awkward at first but had soon become doting and somehow kind. It helped to hear his heart beating through his shirt, knowing Norah had a piece of that same heart thudding in her chest. If Mark's beat, surely hers did too.

"What happens if she's not back in twenty-four hours?" the woman voiced from under his chin, not having a clue why. Mark wouldn't know; he wasn't the Marshal.

"Then we go out there and we look ourselves," he answered anyway. "You, me, and Norah, Part Two you're carrying around down there."

Mary knew that, because he was the man, he thought he had to be stoic and unwavering. But she could hear in his tone how uncertain he was.

"She hasn't been making me feel very hot today," Mary admitted, used to expressing her ailments anymore. "Norah Part Two."

Mark just patted her hair lightly to show he was sorry about this, but didn't say anything. The action was easier than words at this point, considering how they were positioned – how they had been for some time. Mary's stomach was throbbing, from more than her uterus or unborn daughter this time, but probably because she'd had nothing to eat all day. But, she couldn't face the thought of food. She knew she'd throw it all up.

"I should be with her…" it was the only thing she could think of to keep the awful silence from wrapping them up, allowing them to think the thoughts they were anyway. "I'm her mother, Mark; I'm supposed to keep her safe…"

Not everyone anymore. Not like her past. Just Norah – it had been Mark that had said that. The only person she needed to take care of was Norah. But, she'd taken a serious nosedive in that department; she'd botched it in the worst way possible.

"You do keep her safe," Mark persevered gallantly. "But, she has a mind of her own. She always has. She thinks she can spread her wings and fly no matter how far the fall. It's one of my favorite things about her."

It was one of Mary's favorite things too.

Meanwhile, Marshall was in the kitchen, caressing his temples between his thumb and index finger, replaying Mary's version of events over and over in his mind. He would not ask her to recount it, knowing if she'd had any sort of 'eureka' moment she'd have told him right away. Jinx kept trying to feed him things, get him to drink water, and he'd finally accepted so she would stop asking and he could think freely.

Peter and Brandi were having dinner with Robyn and Max out in the yard on a plastic Fisher-Price table, and Joanna was dozing lightly on the couch. Jinx had been left to wring her hands and practically press her ear to Mary's bedroom door, silently begging her to come out.

Marshall didn't know if he'd ever strained his brain so hard in his life, but he would pop a blood vessel if that's what it took to get Norah home to Mary. There was no greater task at hand; no bigger case file he'd been handed. This was his career, right here and now.

Watching Robyn chew up chicken nuggets in the fast-setting sun, Marshall was struck by how much she and Norah really did look alike, despite Robyn's proclivity for princesses and Norah's for baseball. That, and the pigtails. Norah refused to have her hair tied off in such a fashion, and had laughed as hard as her cousin upon hearing Marshall call them 'ponytails.' Pony is one, and pig is two; they'd said.

This brought to mind the time Norah had mentioned not long ago, when he'd taken her horseback riding and Mary had-had a fit when she'd found out. It seemed distant now, the actual occurrence anyway, but he could see the little girl's face in the shining sun at the swimming pool, drippy and painted pleased-as-punch in it's beautiful smile.

"_My dad used to take me riding when I was little, and he always told me that being on a horse is like being free."_

Marshall did love it down at those stables; such nice memories of his childhood. He'd always enjoyed that they were so close to Mary's house – just a few blocks away. And they were the best place to do his most intimate thinking.

"_I go down there to think sometimes. It helps me sort things out…"_

His voice washed aside so briefly to make room for another one – the voice of a little girl who grabbed tight and never let go of anything.

"_What does he need to think about?"_

He hadn't been there, and yet he could hear the familiar timbre in his head so easily. It all began to rush – on super-speed, on fast-forward, wheels chugging and spinning on the railroad tracks, a plane's jet engines firing up to prepare for lift off. But Marshall was already in the sky, overshooting the clouds, crashing into the stars.

In more accurate terms, he was running; he was racing, he was shouting like a madman.

"Mary! Mary!"

Jinx looked like she about had a stroke he startled her so badly, and clutched her heart screaming, "What? What is it?"

She tottered after him back to the bedroom, and he barged right in without even knocking. He saw Mary, disheartened to find she was crying softly, snuggled near to Mark, basking in some much-needed comfort. It was a mark of the strength of their relationship that he was not the least bit jealous and merely glad she'd found a friend when he could not be there.

As if any of that mattered now anyway.

"What?" she sat up right away at the urgency in his voice, wiping her eyes quickly. "What's going on? Did you hear something?"

Mark did the same, leaning off the headboard and Marshall plunked heartily onto the bed, speaking a mile a minute, all the suspicions he'd had flying off his tongue as he thought them.

"When we were at the swimming pool that day last week, I'd come from those stables a few blocks away, do you remember? Norah said I smelled like horses…"

"Yeah," Mary was too tired to put the puzzle together and said the single word to get Marshall to hurry up.

"And when she asked what I was doing there, I told her it was my favorite place to go and think things through – to _think_."

"Oh Jesus…"

"I don't know what else to try, but she might go there looking for me, if she really latched onto you telling her I'd left to go think – if she remembered that…"

Jinx gasped softly, but Mary was already moving to get off the bed; action in her rearing its head.

"I'm going with you – I'm going with you – I need to go with you…" she insisted, but both Marshall and Mark grabbed an arm; she wasn't getting anywhere.

"No," Marshall was firm. "I want you to stay here. I will go – I will check it out. Stay here."

"I'll stay with her," Mark offered at once.

It was the clearest clutter of pieces Marshall had ever put together, but he couldn't stop the fear that he might be getting all worked up for no reason at all. What if he was wrong? What if he'd acted too quickly and gotten Mary's hopes up for nothing? She'd be devastated.

Unfortunately, Mary's annoyance at being told to stay put was what was on the immediate horizon; she was going to fight tooth and nail to do something productive.

"I am not staying here!" she wrenched Mark's arm away and tried to clamber out of the bed over Marshall, but he sat and blocked her way. Jinx even came over the tried to talk her down, hands fluttering all over in the sudden burst of inspiration. "I am going with you – she's my daughter, Marshall!"

"Sweetie, you need to lie down and relax…" Jinx crooned, patting the covers.

"I've been _relaxing_ all day!" not entirely true. "I'm done! I've let you all sit around and do _my_ job because you don't want anything to happen to this kid!" she waved a hand in the region of her midsection. "I've done my part; I want to go!" she was almost whining.

"Mary, I really need you to hang out until I can get a handle on this…" Marshall rationalized quietly. "If she's there and she's hiding for some reason, a whole crowd of people might scare her; she might think we're angry; there's no telling…"

"I don't care!" the tears were back, flooding her face and prompting many shocked and distraught looks from Jinx at the side of the bed. "I don't care! I need to see her! I need to be out there trying to find her!"

Marshall had never heard her scream so loudly, so vehemently, and with so much passion. She was quite the sight – eyes flashing, glimmers and ponds of tears on her cheeks, arm curled over her stomach either protectively or in pain, Marshall wasn't sure.

"Marshall, what if she isn't there…?" her speech broke, crashed, and shattered. "What if she isn't there?"

Mary was a highly intelligent woman. Marshall's fears about disappointing her were not simply his own. He knew she hated to be sitting here, battling them all and weeping to boot. Never mind his concerns about their unborn child, who was being put through quite the wringer as well.

"Give her some space…" Marshall suggested in an undertone that was not accusatory, but it wasn't a request either. "Give her some room to breathe here…"

The mention of drawing air seemed to get Mary's feet back on the ground, as did the actions of Mark and Jinx backing away slightly – Mark to the other end of the bed, Jinx to the wall. Marshall stayed where he was at the edge and ran his hand over her cheek, brushing the stray strands of hair behind her ears, which were now damp from the leakage.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Green orbs flicked upward and locked in.

"If she's not there, I'll come back and we will go out there and hunt her down together, you got it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark nod solemnly and eventually Mary did the same.

"Marshall…" she intoned theatrically, eyes not leaving his face.

The man prayed with every holy fiber in his body that what came out of her mouth next was not the single piece of good news he was going to receive that day.

"Make sure she's back by Thanksgiving."

XXX

Marshall had a flashlight, he had his badge, he had on his most comfortable T-shirt and jeans so he could jump, dive, dart, and tumble with the best of them if the opportunity so presented itself. He was ready to rock and roll. He was ready for anything that came his way. Above all, he was ready to find Norah and give her back to Mary.

The stables in question, as he had told Norah when he'd mentioned their location, were roughly twelve blocks from Mary's house – two stoplights and a couple of twists and turns through a residential area. For as long as Marshall had known of them, they were open to the public and housed about two dozen or so horses and ponies, mostly for birthday party rides. He did know of a few people – witnesses' children mostly – that had taken recreational lessons there in the past, as there was a large open field beyond the housings to practice jumps.

When he arrived, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the mountaintops beyond. It cast a strange deep orange glow with just a haze and hint of purple on the horizon. It made Marshall's shadow look longer and lankier than usual, stretching far out and above his hunched form as he leapt from his SUV and slammed the door.

He could see the stables in the distance, a decent-sized wooden complex with a dim light on near the back for the night ranch hands, or so he assumed. Picking up the pace, he began to jog toward the building, heart pounding none-too-listlessly against his ribcage, making the bones feel as though they could fracture and splinter in two at any moment.

The barn, such as it was, had no doors and so Marshall was able to walk right in, knowing all the steeds were kept in padlocked stalls in the evening so no passerby could pull them without a fight. It was dusty and full of hay, not to mention hay bales; his feet crackled on the earth beneath him, boots crunching on the debris. The tiny light at the rear end lit only a portion of the horses, and Marshall's flashlight was a big help as he beamed it up and down, scanning before he started shouting.

The horses were the only noise – their neighs and whinnies, the occasional clip-clop of a hoof or two. A few of the more aggressive ones banged against their gate's doors, but it was obvious everything had been shut down tight for the evening. Near as Marshall could tell, there was no place for Norah to hide, but he ventured further in just to be sure.

His light bounced back and forth, from one end of the stable to the other, and eventually he found his voice.

"Norah?" he called softly, peering everywhere for gaps. "Norah…?"

There was also a gun in his belt loop. It felt odd to be carrying the flashlight instead of the glock. Two more steps and he was nearing the end of the two rows, but the last one on the right looked like it might be empty. The bulb above was brightest here, and he took another step.

"Norah…"

And in an instant, far before Marshall was prepared for it, the tiniest of faces peered around the corner of the last door – big brown eyes, long and tattered blonde hair – it was the briefest glimpse before it swept itself out of sight again.

"NORAH!"

He knew exactly what he'd seen, and his booming, greatest, most-practiced US Marshal voice caused the head to reappear – this time in denim shorts and a red T-shirt to match her All Star tennis shoes.

"MARSHALL!"

And before he could even get a hold of himself, before he could even wrap his brain around the fact that Mary's daughter was standing right in front of him, he had dropped the flashlight and ran the final seven feet. The only thing was, she was running too – little legs pumping, arms flailing, and sobbing. He heard the sobbing above all the rest, but he also knew there was no time for any thought other than that she was here. She was alive, she was here, and she was okay.

"Marshall…!"

"Oh, thank God…"

He flung out his spindly, skinny arms and grabbed at what seconds before had been thin air but was now Norah. He seized her around her middle and swung her up and into his chest, raised high above the ground, scrawny legs wound around his waist, lean limbs around his neck; clutching hard enough to choke him.

Her cries were loud and frightened beyond anything he'd ever heard in his ear. But, all Marshall could do was breathe her in, smooth her hair, and grasp her as tightly as she was grasping him.

"Where's mommy…?" she bleated miserably, one of the first things he actually understood. "Where's mom? Marshall, I want mommy…"

"She's at home, gorgeous," he promised breathlessly, unable to let go and speaking over her shoulder. "She's at home. She's at home with your dad. They are gonna be so happy to see you."

"I wanted to go back, but it got dark and I got scared and everybody left…" she cried even harder as it all came spilling out of her mouth and Marshall kissed her hair, doing his best not to sound as beside himself as she did.

"It's okay…" the man assured her, knowing they could beat it to death at a later date. "It's okay. I'm here; you're safe. You're safe; I'm gonna take you home."

"Marshall…" she sobbed his name another time, hiccupping and on the verge of hyperventilating she was such a mess. "I…don't…but…"

He couldn't make out the words, but could tell how insanely important she found it, and so forced himself to loosen his grip. He patted her back one last time and then worked his arms apart from hers, so that she finally sat perched in his grasp, face-to-face and eye-to-eye.

"Shh…" he encouraged, helping her wipe up her face, which was pretty dirty and streaked. "Shh. Remember to breathe…"

They'd talked about that technique as a method to calm down. It seemed ages ago, but Norah gulped and gasped her way back to a little bit of clarity. Now that he was getting a better look, Marshall saw that her hair was totally uncombed, sticking up in the back, and her shirt – a plain and solid crimson – was on backwards. He could only guess this was a result of her trying to dress herself in her escape.

"What were you saying?" he finally asked gently after she'd settled down a little bit.

The mere mention looked like it might send Norah over the edge again, but the words that came were direct, passionate, and full of force – as much as he'd seen from only one person before in his life. Like mother, like daughter.

"Marshall, _please_ don't leave and go live somewhere else…" she begged with a kind of crazed, but nonetheless genuine look on her face. "_Please_ stay with me and with mommy. There are all these kids at school and they have dads and step-dads that leave them and they never come back and they never see them again and I already have to go someplace else to see daddy and I don't want you to go off and forget about me…"

The sentence was a spectacular run-on, punctuated with cries and shudders, but Marshall was too touched and too heartbroken by its merit to care.

"Norah…honey…" he'd never used such a term of affection before, but he couldn't help himself as he flattened her hair once more. "I could never ever forget you, or your mom, or your sister. Never-never, as long as I live."

"I wanted to come here to tell you not to go!" she exploded still more fanatically. "I thought you'd come because you told me you like to think and ride the horses…!"

"I know…" he whispered, never imagining it would get them in so much trouble.

"I left the note so mommy would know, but I didn't tell her 'cause I was afraid she'd be mad or she'd think I loved you more than I loved her!"

"She doesn't think that, champ…" he continued.

"I love you the same! I love you and daddy and mom all the same!" she declared, with so much vigor it was impossible not to believe her.

And in the here and now, the night becoming starry, the sun fast-fading beyond the slats in the wall, Marshall had a warm, wiggly little girl in his grasp – a feat he'd been terrified he would not accomplish in this century. There was no greater gift than a child you loved, safe and sound in your arms.

"We're going home," was how he topped it off with a kiss to her forehead. "We are going home."

XXX

**A/N: I hope you will be able to stretch your imagination to the point where it would take Marshall that length of time to register where Norah had gone. Were the characters real, they would've had a lot more things happen than what we saw in each of the chapters; hopefully you'll be able to buy that their minds would not immediately go there. ;)**

**But, it is all water under the bridge at this point! Marshall found her – wahoo! I hope you enjoyed their reunion; I thought you guys might like their individual weepy-hello.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I'm glad you guys enjoyed the Marshall/Norah reunion! I meant to state in my author's notes that I hoped Mary leaning on Mark (literally and figuratively) was not too out-of-character, but it seems many of you enjoyed that as well.**

XXX

Mary was definitely in a daze – a spell, a stupor. All she kept seeing was the image of Marshall walking through her front door empty-handed – helpless, hapless, distraught. It was the only picture she held because it was the one that prompted the least amount of disappointment. If she thought anything else, if she let even the tiniest glimmer of hope invade her brain when it might not work out then she wouldn't be able to do this any longer. She would go over the edge, off the high dive, down the hole, into hell.

She lay on her side now, facing the wall with a kind of deer-in-the-headlights look. Mark was just a presence behind her, remaining half-reclined against the headboard. She was down; he was upright. He was also patting her hair over and over. A remote buzzing in the corner of her brain was telling him to stop; it was becoming repetitive and somehow counter-productive, but she didn't do it. She let him stroke; the only method of comfort he possessed when she was mute and no longer in his arms.

Mary did not know how long they sat that way – not facing each other, not saying anything. She refused to look at the clock, because it would only make her nervous. Never mind that she could practically feel and hear the otherwise-silent waiting of those on the other side of the door. Jinx, Joanna, Brandi, even the kids; they all had their own signals they were sending out that seeped through the wood and became ingrained in her skin whether she was there or not.

She never heard the door. At first, she didn't even hear Brandi.

"Mary!"

It was like an echo – like something out of a dream. It couldn't be real. She was pretty sure it wasn't, because Mark didn't move either. Until it came again – once, twice, several more times.

"Mare! Mary! Mark!"

Perhaps it was the old adage, 'third time's a charm.' Perhaps it was the fact that Mark had heard his own name, and this recalled him to the real world. He came to life so fast Mary hardly noticed at first. All she felt was his hand jump from her hair to her back – a shove instead of a stroke.

"Mary…"

He might've thought she was asleep but far from. She was already up, using her hands to get a good lift off the mattress, scarcely realizing how much harder it had become with how much heavier she was.

"Do you need help?" Mark was already bounding off the bed, but Mary did not even spare him a second's response.

Her head was full of nothingness now as she scrambled ungracefully to her feet and met Mark halfway – she didn't see that picture of a defeated Marshall, or think of her child lying dead in a gutter somewhere. It was just pure, intangible adrenaline. She was blinded by taking action, by moving her feet, by feeling her heart beat however sadistically and fanatically in her chest. The sound of her own name was a bullhorn – it was the wake up call. Her sister was sounding the alarm.

Her and Mark, Mary was certain, looked absurdly like entrants in a three-legged race as they both fought through the narrow hallway at the same time. Their footsteps were loud even though Mary was wearing socks. She saw the blurry figures of Jinx and Joanna standing near the couch – the indistinct form of Brandi close to the front door. Eventually, she even made out Peter, Robyn, and Max in the kitchen. Robyn was sitting on the counter; Max was chewing on his fingers.

There was nothing but a rushing in her ears, and so Mary couldn't understand the phrase that exploded out of Jinx's mouth – the phrase that would've told her she could stop worrying.

"She's here!"

It mattered not. The stars aligned at exactly the right moment regardless of what was said or done. Mary and Mark skittered to a halt when they reached the end of the hallway with a little more elbow room. The door made its creak, and the shape of Marshall emerged from the outdoors. There was a bend in his arms because he was holding a fearful, dirty little girl that looked remarkably like her daughter.

The head of the little girl turned. The dark eyes lit up with a bright, vibrant flame dancing in their tiny specks of white. It was that twinkle that sent Mary crashing hard and fast back to her home in Albuquerque, New Mexico; into knowing that little girl was…

"Mommy!" she screamed at the exact same moment Mark bellowed, "Norah!"

Norah.

Marshall slipped her down to the ground, and Mary was astounded by the self-restraint of her family as she bolted through them all like a marathon runner in a ticker-tape parade to get to her parents. Mary dropped to her knees so roughly she suspected they might bruise come tomorrow. That gorgeous face, once fuzzy and indistinct, sprinted closer and closer – hair streaming like a long curtain, brown eyes full of tears, but the most despondent-looking smile stretched its way onto her sullied cheeks.

She was close enough for Mary to grab her, and she did. She yanked, gripped, tugged, heaved, and hauled her into her chest where two hearts pressed together, end-to-end. Where two hearts beat as one. She didn't care how loud the tears were that fell from her daughter's eyes. She didn't care that she was filthy and had no explanation for where she'd been all day. She especially did not care that Mark was doing all the talking, because Mary got to do all the holding while he bent over the two entwined together and kissed her head about fifty times.

She cared about nothing at all except that her child was here – here with her mother, from where she'd come and where she'd stay. Despite the unkempt appearance, Mary couldn't help thinking Norah had never looked, tasted, or shone so beautifully. She relished those little girls' waves in her otherwise stick-straight hair. She found joy in the fact that her T-shirt appeared to be on backwards. She could kiss the soil adorning her favorite well-worn pair of red sneakers. She was silky skin, vivid eyes, scraped elbows, dirty fingernails, and more. She was her Norah.

"Are you okay?" Mark was whispering between each peck. "Are you okay?"

She was not going to answer. He figured this out soon enough and raised his head a fraction of an inch to ask Marshall, who had ventured a little further inside.

"Is she okay?"

With a very large sigh, he nodded.

Mary wasn't sure she even blinked in the choking, never-ending embrace that followed with her child. She didn't even cry, although how that was possible she wasn't sure. She just stooped there, wide-eyed with her lids darting from Marshall to the onlookers and back again. She was breathing fast; that much she was aware of. It was making the back of Norah's neck very warm, but Mary could only inhale, exhale, and run her fingers up and down her child's spine. Initially, it was as much for her sake as her daughter's, but when Norah would not let up on the sobs, she knew the gears had to switch.

"Bug, its okay…" her voice was awfully hoarse, and she caressed a little harder – a little faster. "It's okay. I'm here, dad's here; Marshall…everybody's here. We're just happy you're home."

"You're…mad…'cause I left…" Norah said throatily, having to pause between each word.

"I don't care about that right now," Mary promised, and now Mark knelt beside them as well to offer his input. "I don't care about anything except that you're here. Come and look at me…"

Squeezing gently as a means to get her moving, Mary reluctantly pulled herself away from Norah and took her by her forearms. She was hanging her head, refusing to meet her mother's glance; Mark nudged himself over so they could both get a look.

"Marshall said you're all right…" Mary reminded her, hoping this would be of some help to both of them. "You are all right? You're not hurt?"

After a sniffle and a shudder that made those forearms shake, "No. I didn't get hurt but I was _scared_…" she emphasized, finally looking up. "I was only waiting so I could talk to Marshall, but it got really-really dark and then I didn't know what to do! I didn't think I could get back in the dark; I was afraid to get lost!"

"Well, Marshall found you and now you're here with us…" Mark brushed over her motives quite swiftly. "Try to chill out a little. You'll just feel worse."

"Mom, get me some Kleenex…" Mary turned to speak over her shoulder, stunned at how easily she was able to transition so fast into US Marshal mode once more, watching Jinx dither off to the bathroom to find something suitable.

Coming down off the wave meant some very noisy hiccups, but Mary continued to crouch and smooth her tousled honey-golden strands of hair. Mark even took her tiny hand and held it in his until Jinx returned with a full box of tissues; likely a new one she had found under the sink.

"Here sweetheart…"

Mary took it and busted the plastic, tossing the remains to the floor, and pulled free about six tissues, only two of which she folded in half. The rest, she deposited in Mark's lap.

"Wipe your eyes, love; let me help you…"

Never before had Mary felt so maternal, but streaking the tears made the dirt spread across Norah's already stained cheeks. She was in for a bath later, but now it was important to present the illusion of more control. And her daughter was clearly basking in being taken care of; her unrivaled independence had flung her much too far today. She'd seen the other side, and she hadn't liked it.

When the moments had passed and the drama had faded even slightly, Norah blinked politely – first at her mother, then Mark, and then Marshall. Finally, she took in Jinx, Joanna, and Brandi, even Peter and her cousins who were whispering furtively in the kitchen.

Swallowing, she turned back to Mary, "Why is everyone here?" she whispered shyly.

Since she'd asked, Mary was going to answer truthfully but she was going to be quick and clean. Norah was clearly a wreck and now was not the time, but the inquiry prompted a slight reprimand – very slight. With a brief glance at Mark to confer, he nodded and she began to speak.

"Bug, you _cannot_ leave the house by yourself…" Mary emphasized as calmly, but as seriously as she could. "You know that; we've talked about that lots of times. It isn't safe."

"Norah, there are people out there that are not nice," Mark chimed in, watering down the likes of criminals and pedophiles. "People that might hurt you, and I know that sounds scary, but you need to be careful…"

"I _was_ careful," Norah insisted, but it did not conceal her shame; she knew she'd done wrong. "I knew the way to the horses and I thought Marshall would come a lot faster…"

"Love, you should have talked to _me_ about Marshall," Mary insisted. "And we could've called Marshall and figured it out. I did not do a good job of telling you what was going on; I understand you were confused, that's my fault…"

"But, just because mom makes a mistake or I make a mistake or anybody else…" Mark cut in, sticking up for Mary briefly. "It is not up to you to fix it. You're six Norah; you don't know everything yet. Leave the big things to us."

Norah shuffled her feet and sniffled another time, taking in the graveness on her parent's faces – her mother's pale cheeks, her father's swimmy eyes, the fact that the house was full of so many people. She'd understood some of it, like being in trouble for running away, but not the fear. She hadn't understood that.

"Mommy, were you scared?" she whispered frightfully. "Did I scare you because I didn't tell you where I went?"

Mary swallowed, determined to be adult; suddenly feeling the stares of all the others whom her daughter had clued in to long before.

"I was pretty scared, Bug," she patted her shoulder and Mark laid a hand on his ex's back. "But even if you _could_ tell me where you went, you _don't go_," she hadn't wanted to do this right now, but the onslaught of questions meant it came without warning. "You're little; you stay with me or you stay with daddy or Marshall or Brandi or anybody else _all the time_."

"We're gonna talk more tomorrow," Mark slid away neatly, clearly sensing Mary had-had her fill of the punishments. "Right now, you say hello to everyone 'cause they're gonna be leaving, get something to eat, and then you're taking a bath, all right?"

"You've gotta be starving," Mary hung on to one phrase in there, suddenly realizing she felt the same way; her stomach had an intense growl now rather than an intense ache.

"Go say hi to moms; they missed you too…" Mark pointed to Jinx and Joanna, using their corny plural name he had adopted for when they were in the same room, even though Jinx was 'Jinx' and Joanna was 'Grandma.'

Norah obeyed, coming to a lot better now. Mary and Mark stood up; Mary even allowed herself a helping hand, as getting off the floor was not as easy as it used to be. She heard the distant spoiling and crooning coming from Jinx and Joanna behind her; Joanna even picked Norah up and they both smooched her cheeks, leaving lipstick prints to mingle among the dirt.

But for Mary, there was only one destination right now. Her daughter was content, and so her feet led her to the man standing with his hands in his pockets, slouched at the outer counter just watching it all unfold. He behaved as an outsider even though he was the furthest thing from; unobtrusive, inconspicuous, always keeping a low profile.

And Mary, there in front of all to see whether they were paying attention or not, caught Marshall's eye just seconds before she captured his lips and planted one – fulfilling, intoxicating, hands in his hair, down his back; his roving and roaming the same directions. They were like probes on a map; all their fingers following the exact same intricate patterns. Eventually, his hands pulled in and she was in his arms as well as on his mouth.

When she got it together enough to drift away and stare up into his big blue eyes, he looked as even as ever.

"You do know that I would be _nothing_ without you right now."

Marshall fed her a sheepish smile, "That's a big thank-you. Isn't it?"

"The biggest one you will ever get," Mary affirmed. "I owe you my life, Marshall."

"You owe me nothing," he insisted, trailing a finger along her chest. "I strung two words, two days together; and here we are. You could've done the same if it hadn't been your child out there on the lam and you hadn't been here – worrying about keeping the sequel intact," he even patted a hand on her belly. "I did _nothing_ you wouldn't have done for me."

Just as Mary was about to tell him he would have to let her know as soon as she could return the favor, another body floated into their midst – one that had not been gone long. Mark was standing there when both she and Marshall turned; he wore an embarrassed smile about the interruption.

"Sorry, you two…" he said off the bat. "Can I intervene on the celebration here for a minute?"

Mary knew some version of what she'd just expressed was about to come out and agreed, "Sure…" slipping out of Marshall's arms, however reluctantly.

With another glance, she saw that Brandi had joined 'moms' and was fingering Norah's hair, pawing her nails through all the knots in the expert way she did without pulling; Norah didn't even notice. The little girl was telling some sort of story, because she could see Joanna and Jinx responding with, 'really?' and 'oh, my goodness!' their eyes wide, and an excellent audience. Brandi simply smiled until she caught Mary watching them and directed her grin a more definite location. To Mary's surprise, she even blew a kiss, waggling her fingers after the fact – a silent signal of love.

"Marshall, I can't thank you enough for what you did here…" Mark was saying when Mary tuned back in. "Honestly, I don't know how…"

The mentioned man had already gotten the speech, "I was doing my duty – as both a US Marshal and a future father," he dictated modestly. "And _you_, my friend, are an _impeccable_ father. It was the least I could do for you and Mary for how much you share a kid like Norah with me."

You could not out 'humble' Marshall, Mary thought. He so rarely gave himself any credit; always grateful, always accepting, always tolerant. She really did not express her thanks enough to him for dealing with her whirling dervish family.

"Well…if there's anything I _can_ do…" Mark persisted a little slowly this time, obviously unable to work his way out of such a generous phrase. "I hope you won't hesitate to let me know. I'm happy to stay with the little one when she comes if you guys need a night off or something."

"Think this is an attitude I could get used to," Mary quipped so Marshall wouldn't have to answer. "Where you been hiding the charitable acts all this time?" she joked, amazed at how she was able to do so.

Mark gave a shaky laugh and put his hand on her shoulder, programmed today to provide comfort, "I'll help you boot out the gang and get Norah some food, get her bath started, but then I'll be out of your hair…"

"You can stay as long as you want," Mary whispered as benevolently as she knew how; she couldn't forget his feeling that he was second-best to Marshall. Although he might be tremendously grateful, such a feeling wasn't going away just yet. "Honest. But, I will take you up on kicking out the crew. It's been a long day."

"All right…" Mark agreed with a real smile. "Well, I promise not to get in the way," he offered anyway.

Mary nodded, mostly to quiet him, but the longer they stood she knew it was probably prudent to return some of the affection he had been handing out all day. They couldn't stare forever; not with her eyes threatening to fill with tears really for no reason at all this time – a release of stress, if nothing else.

Without a word, she put an arm around him but allowed Marshall to hang onto one of her hands, keeping both men at spitting distance in the exact same moment. She exhaled slowly – not to mention loudly – at having Mark close for a moment. He, above anyone, would know of the nightmare she'd been given. In flesh and blood, no one was Norah's parent but the two of them. Not without a rocky start, they'd battled through it together and come out the other side.

"We made it, kid…" was the wisdom he offered before he let her go. From across, he tweaked her cheek, "You were a champ."

Mary's laugh was as trembling as his had been, "Not exactly. I can still spot a liar."

"You mean I don't get points for charm?" he inquired with a face of mock-offense.

"Don't be a douche bag."

For the first time all day, their grins matched in mutual happiness. They were back from whence they'd come – joking, teasing, batting back hard times, but possessing more fondness than they used to.

Mark's departing word was a simple nod before he ambled into the kitchen to find some food. Mary was about to turn back to Marshall seeing that Norah was still busy with the women, but when Peter got to work helping Mark, someone else made an escape. It came in the form of tugging just below Marshall's belt loop.

Looking down, both laid eyes on Robyn – still in her skirt and tank-top, pigtails a little askew and falling out now. She'd abandoned Max on the counter and was gazing up at both of them, clearly unable to contain herself in all the excitement.

"Well!" Marshall put on his best performance, sticking both hands on his hips. "Hello there, princess! I hardly recognized you – you've been so quiet!" he bent, hands under her arms, and picked her up.

"Was I good?" Robyn asked at once, eyes darting from Mary to Marshall and back again. "I was trying so-so-so hard to be good; because mommy said you were both super-super sad you couldn't find Norah…"

"You were outstanding," Marshall praised.

"You really were, babe…" Mary chimed in, squeezing one of her bare feet that were dangling out of Marshall's grasp. Robyn had behaved very far from her usual self today; boxed up all of her energy due to whatever stipulations Brandi had laid to get her to keep quiet. It was to be admired.

"How sad _were_ you?" the five-year-old wanted to know.

Mary didn't especially want to put a label on it, but Marshall was quick, "Even sadder than Cinderella when her step-mother locked her in her bedroom," he poked a finger in her chest.

Robyn's eyebrows flew up, "Sadder than _that_?"

"Can you imagine?" Marshall shook his head.

"You know what I figured out though?" Robyn switched, finished with that.

"What did you figure out?" Marshall repeated.

"You're like Robin Hood or Peter Pan or Prince Charming or Eric from Mermaid now!" she declared excitedly.

Marshall laughed and Mary did too, just picturing Marshall in a pair of green tights and a little hat with a feather.

"And why is that?" patient as ever.

"Because you're a _hero_! You found Norah!" Mary's little niece proclaimed boldly. "That's what heroes do right? I think that might be better than being born on the Fourth of July!"

Mary cocked her head and leaned over to kiss Robyn's cheek, unexpectedly touched by her quirky brand of congratulations. To Robyn, there was nothing greater or more thrilling, nothing was a bigger accomplishment than landing on planet earth on a holiday where fireworks went off and people waved American flags. From her, this was paramount and looking at her, Mary could hardly believe that face was the same one that she'd watched come into the world after so many obstacles to hurdle over.

They were _all_ trying tonight. It had never felt so good. And Marshall smiled, obviously thinking the same thing she was.

"I don't think I've ever gotten a better compliment than that," he told her. "But, I've got a secret for you girly…" he whispered under his breath. "Gotta keep it between us, okay?"

"You have a _secret_?" Robyn squealed so loudly there was not much chance of it being kept.

"Shh…!" Marshall played along. "I'll only tell if you keep it to yourself."

Robyn nodded fervently, a very giggly hand over her mouth in anticipation. Mary had no idea where this was going and waited it out while Marshall glanced around, so fun-loving and carefree with the little girls. Brandi had been right about that.

"Do you know how I figured out Norah went to the stables?" he asked very softly, leaning in so Robyn had to strain to listen.

"How?" her voice was as low as his.

Marshall held out both his hands so she was balanced only on his hips, but he was strong enough to keep her there. Palms out, he took both strands of hair in his fingers, bringing them to the forefront, causing Robyn's eyes to skirt in all directions trying to unlock the mystery.

Before she could ask, "I saw your _pony_tails!"

You couldn't put a price on the look on Robyn's face. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up like the brightest, most brilliant stars above.

"_I_ helped you find Norah!"

"Well, somebody had to!" he claimed. "But remember, we zip our lips…" he mocked locking up his own mouth, a gesture that often worked with Robyn. "Some things are _too_ dramatic to put in a show, my queen…" this was the important part. "You keep them in your heart," he patted her chest.

Robyn nodded solemnly, understanding that she was not to repeat her aide in the future; as the memories would be too difficult for others to live through again.

And there was warmth floating in Mary's chest at the thought that they had _two_ much happier girls under their roof tonight, a relieved father, a gallant conqueror whom she adored, and more love than any of them really knew what to do with. She could not, ever, in a million years, ask for more than that.

XXX

**A/N: We are sailing our way toward the end now! You guys have been great!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm sad to see this end too, but there are still a couple chapters to go!**

XXX

The following day was one of the most bizarre Mary had ever lived through. After a much-needed good night's sleep and a lengthy discussion with Norah in the morning in which Mary, Mark, and Marshall laid ground rules as to why she could never run off again, the afternoon was set aside for frivolity.

At first, Mary wasn't much of a fan – she didn't look at Norah's return as something to celebrate; it was simply something for which you needed to thank your lucky stars a thousand times over and pray never repeated itself in the future. But, as the alternative was sitting around wringing their hands about what might've been and allowing Norah to feel traumatized; merriment sounded pretty good. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to become worked up over what had gone down; she herself wanted to forget the whole thing.

The kitchen was kind of a cacophony. Brandi and Peter were making cookies with Robyn and Max at the island. Mary was sitting on a stool at the outer counter while Norah sat on the counter itself; both were doing some cut-and-paste. Mary was discovering she was not much of an artist; so much so it was embarrassing. Marshall and Mark mingled among it all, helping where needed; at least they were sans 'moms' this time.

The art in question was comprised of dozens of baseball cut-outs to hang on a homemade mobile for the sister-to-be. Mary thought it was funny Norah wanted it to be of baseballs, considering it was not for a now-non-existent brother. It had come into play without warning; a spur-of-the-moment idea from her daughter. She'd forgotten that Robyn – and Max, she supposed – were the only ones in the room who didn't know the gender, as all the adults had been made aware.

"I messed up _again_!" Norah bleated. "I can't make round circles! Why can't I make round circles?"

"Don't feel bad, Bug…" Mary was consoling. "Mine look like eggs," she held up her oval shape to demonstrate.

"But it needs to be _round_!" she insisted. "I only made one round one so far, and it was the one I drew the laces on crooked!" she also took her turn at showing her handiwork, of which she was not especially proud.

"It doesn't have to be perfect," Mary promised as she tried to use her oval to make a more complete circle on the white construction paper, tracing for experiment.

"Such a phrase expelling out your mouth is a little disturbing," Marshall decided as he moseyed into their midst, taking a glance at their creations. "But quite a stride," he clarified. "Do not mistake my surprise for disdain."

"Look at this garbage…" Mary showed him her achievement; a baseball that had run out of air. "Norah's is leaps and bounds above mine. Seriously."

But, it seemed her daughter disagreed and she huffed loudly, blowing her bangs out of her eyes; cheeks reddening.

"Marshall, look!" she pouted, jabbing her finger at the paper where she was making circles or lack thereof. "Do you know how to make them straight?"

"Try this…" the man had an idea at once and stole over to the sink, dumping out a mug of pencils and planting it on the counter in front of Norah. "Hold that on your paper and trace around it. Might be a little closer to softball size…" he lifted the cup and peered at the bottom briefly before setting it back down. "But still. And, if it's any comfort, I don't think the baby will mind very much."

Norah ignored the last comment, "That's a good idea!"she was enthralled and immediately began trying to circle around the base, pencil scratching, knees pulled to her chin from where she perched atop the counter.

At that moment, Robyn sauntered over, sashaying her little hips and peering on her tiptoes at what was going on. It was clear she had become bored with the cookie-baking upon being told she could not devour all the dough, and was on to more interesting matters.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing Mary cutting something out because she was closest. "Can I do it?" she didn't even know what it was.

"Didn't know you were into baseballs," Mary quipped, flashing one two-dimensional her direction.

"What's that for?" Robyn pointed.

Marshall was still standing nearby and so Mary threw him a knowing glance, asking for consent to spill the beans yet another time. Jinx would be the last to know, but it wouldn't hurt – for once in her life. Mary was just trying to prepare herself for the reaction this was going to get. Brandi even stopped trying to slap unbaked cookies onto her sheet to watch, a silly smile on her face.

"It's for the baby," Mary reported casually. "Norah wanted to make a mobile – you've seen Max's right?"

"_That's_ for the baby?" another point. The doubt crept in almost as quickly; Robyn's eyes widened and her mouth hung open in total disbelief, "It's a _boy_?" she spotted the baseballs. "Do you _know_ it's a boy? It _can't_ be a boy…"

Some real whining was coming on, but before Mary could refute the assumptions, Norah did the honors for her. She obviously did not connect to why it was all-that-important one way or another – and, seemingly, saw no reason why girls shouldn't like baseball.

"It's not a boy," she shrugged with nonchalance. "It's a girl. I'm making it for her crib," and she went right back to cutting.

It was like you were about to watch a time bomb go off, Mary thought. She could hear the subtle _tick-tick-tick _in Robyn's brain as the words traveled into her psyche; as she grasped what all this meant – dreams coming true and all. She not only loved to be right, but this on top of having been told she had been an aide in getting Norah back; well, it was all too much, especially since she couldn't reveal the latter.

The most theatrical of gasps escaped and her hands slapped over her mouth in shock; she was eating this up, milking it for all it was worth. Mary was hard-pressed not to laugh, and Brandi wasn't even trying. But, she also knew her daughter and knew that the earthquake was about to reach a ten on the Richter scale. It was a small kitchen, and their nerves were already a bit rattled from yesterday.

"Outside!" she demanded with a chuckle, knowing the steps her and Robyn had gone through; she knew what it meant. "Outside! Run-run! Go!"

Robyn bolted, pigtails bouncing up and down her back; footsteps pounding on the linoleum. She flung open the back door, let it slam shut, and then let out the highest-pitched, most joy-filled squealing shriek Mary had ever heard. Brandi had taught her – or tried to anyway – that she couldn't shout in the house. When circumstances presented themselves, she had to be reminded. And among her yelp, she was actually jumping up and down and spinning in circles. A ham if ever they'd seen one.

"Whoa," Mark chuckled. "Wonder if _anyone_ in my house was that thrilled when I showed up."

"She loves big," Peter said proudly. "That and getting to be right only comes but once every few days," he teased.

Max, however, didn't seem to think his sister's vocalizations were all they were cracked up to be, and waved disinterested fingers in the direction of the noise.

"Wob-in loud!" he whined. "No loud!"

Peter chuckled at this also, "Night and day, you two," he said of his son, allowing him to eat the tiniest bit of cookie dough off his finger. "How'd that happen, huh?"

Mary had no answer to that, but it didn't matter. The doorbell rang, and she imagined it was probably Jinx or Joanna to join in the fun – surely the former had gotten wind of the festivities and was most put-out she was not being included. Mary slid off her stool to answer, ignoring repeated invites from Marshall that he could get it. She didn't even notice that Norah plunged down off the counter after her, despite the very loud thump that came with it when her bare feet hit the hardwood in the living room.

As it turned out, it was not either grandmother waiting on the other side of the door when she reached it, but a much more unexpected face. Said face seemed politely self-conscious about intruding, with deep dark eyes taking her in, not to mention his smooth olive skin, complete with the thick black waves in his hair. Raph was standing there on her porch shuffling his feet – perhaps waiting to be invited in.

"Raph…" Mary breathed in surprise. "Hi…" she managed a greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, well I won't stay long…" he assured her at once, accent still as thick as it had ever been. "But, I was in the neighborhood, and I saw on the news yesterday that…"

"Yeah…" Mary interrupted, shaking her head; she wasn't sure how close Norah was, but there was no need to bring up the incident in front of her. She'd previously had her talking to and they were ready to put it to bed. "Yeah?" she altered it to a question when she thought he got the message.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you were okay," he expressed kindly. "Victoria and I were thinking of you. She told me to tell you she hopes that Norah is okay too."

Mary was accepting of the sentiment, but needed a little bit of clarification as she allowed Raph onto the threshold and shut out the hot air behind him.

"You knew that was her?" she asked with what she hoped was mild curiously. "I mean, you've only see her – what twice? And she was a baby. Didn't the stations put her out under Norah Sheppard?"

"Well, yes but when they said she was the daughter of a United States Marshal…" he gestured blandly at her form, which he only just now seemed to be noticing – in all its rounded glory.

"They said that on the news?" Mary squawked, wondering who she could sue over at the station. "Well, that's a lawsuit coming their way…" she groused, half-joking, half-serious.

Raph obviously didn't know whether he was supposed to laugh or not, but tried before he went on, "Well, I did not want to interrupt, and you have people over…" her peered over head to what was going on in the kitchen before landing back on her face. "But, I hope that everything is all right now – that Norah wasn't hurt."

"No, she's fine," Mary promised. "She's actually…" whipping around, she saw the mentioned standing just a few feet away, her big brown eyes darting all across Raph's face, drinking him in, obviously trying to figure out who he was. Her hair was more combed than usual, but otherwise her summer regalia was fully intact, and Mary beckoned her with a wave of her hand. "Come over here, Bug…"

Cautiously – much more cautiously than usual – her daughter approached on tiptoes and immediately hid behind Mary's rather broad back. She peeked out a few times, blinking more than she might've done ordinarily, huddling like some gopher.

"Don't act shy," Mary scoffed to get her to loosen up. "You do not fool anyone, sister."

Raph tried to smile at the little girl, but it was clear he did not want to make her any more uncomfortable than she might be already. Mary took care of introductions.

"Norah…" she knocked into her child a little bit with her hip to get her to step out, and it worked only partially. "Come on. Say hi – he doesn't bite. This is Raph."

"Hello Norah," Raph waggled his fingers and grinned goofily. "I saw you one time many years ago, but you are much bigger now."

Norah managed at least a question, "Your name is Raph?"

"It is a short name. My name is actually Raphael," the man explained.

Norah grabbed hold of that, "Raphael is one of the Ninja Turtles."

Mary bit on her lip to keep from laughing, but Raph chuckled wholeheartedly and the sound seemed to boost Norah's confidence a little. She slid out from behind Mary's legs to get a better look and he did the same. She still didn't say anything however, until Raph spoke up another time.

"I very much like your jersey," he pointed to her shirt; the one she had on was from the prior summer of baseball. It was navy with white pinstripes on either side of the buttons; Norah's team name spelled out across the middle.

"Yeah, Raph likes baseball," Mary chimed in, surprised to feel Norah reach for her hand even as her poise mounted. "He actually used to play."

"You said lots of people used to play," Norah gazed up at her knowingly. "Even you," it was her way of saying this was not special.

"Yeah, I know," Mary rolled her eyes. "But Raph played on a real team. He was going to be in the majors before he hurt his knee."

This definitely interested Norah and she turned back to the unknown, "That's true?"

"I was a shortstop…" he nodded.

"I play second base," Norah informed him quickly.

Raph knelt down to her level now that she was speaking more freely. Looking at him, Mary was endeared to how unashamedly caring he was. She suddenly found herself wishing that he and Victoria had children; he had wanted them so badly, and with a woman whom he didn't love and didn't love him. Not in the way they needed to.

"Do you ever watch the Isotopes on TV?" he asked.

"Uh-huh…" Norah nodded. "Lots."

"Well, it is my job to work with some of the players," he went on. "I help them when they get to third base. Would you like to come and watch the team practice batting before a game sometime? You could come down on the field to see them. Would you like that?" he repeated.

Norah gasped almost as excitedly as Robyn had minutes before, but it was with slightly less vigor. A genuine, thrilled little smile popped onto her face and she whirled upward to look at her mother.

"Mommy, can I?" she wanted to know at once. "Please, can I?"

Mary had no intention of saying no, but wanted to make sure they were not intruding on anything here. After all, she hadn't seen Raph in years and he was being awfully generous. But, Marshall's voice popped into her head and she recalled him saying once that generosity did not always warrant a payback. People – kind, considerate people – could be giving without expecting anything in return.

"Raph, are you sure?" she still wanted to get clarification. "You don't have to get permission for something like that?"

"I am sure," he nodded. "I will talk to your mom and we will set that up," he held out a hand for Norah to shake, which she did at once, wringing his fingers heartily up and down. And then, "You look very much like your mom, you know."

"Yeah," Norah shrugged, no longer shy. "Kind of. My hair is a lot longer."

Raph chuckled and stood up once more, leaving Norah beaming at her mother's side. The silence that persisted was a little bit strange; Mary knew she ought to say something, but couldn't think of what. She supposed gratitude was in order.

"Thanks," she said it so quickly it probably sounded like she'd only just thought of it, and she had. "You don't have to do this, but I know Norah will have a good time."

"Oh, it's no problem," he waved a casual hand, but his eyes were still in the kitchen and noticing all of the activity; Robyn had returned from the yard, breathless from shouting. "So…" he fought to look at her once more, to give his full attention. "Are all of these yours or…?"

"No," Mary laughed. "Just Norah is mine," she laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "And little missy here…" she might as well draw comment to it while she had the chance, acknowledging her roundedness with a mere flick of her eyes. "The others are…"

But, greetings became completely unnecessary before Mary could finish her thought; because it was obvious her little sister had become curious what was keeping the elder. She pranced right in, noticed at once who it was, and pulled out all the stops.

"Chico!" Brandi exclaimed, making Mary roll her eyes. "No way! Long time no see!" she didn't even wait to see if he wanted to touch her, but threw her arms around him like the shameless flirt she was; never mind that Peter was in the next room.

"Hi Brandi…" he said politely before getting her to back up.

"His name is Raph," Norah chimed in upon hearing the mistake.

"Nah…" Brandi laughed hoarsely and shook her head. "His name's Chico. Mary tells me there's even a Mrs. Chico these days – all married up, are you?"

"Yes," Raph nodded, and now looked as though he was sorry he ever stopped by because Brandi's theatrics were attracting the attention of everyone else in the kitchen. "Her name is Victoria. Mary met her not…"

Too late, "Mommy!" Robyn exclaimed as she practically flew into their midst, clearly noticing her opportunity to show off in the presence of a guest. "Who is that?" she jutted one of her fingers out.

"Robyn, I told you not to point…" Brandi grabbed said finger, turning into a mother almost at once and Mary fed Raph a half-smile; her explanation was about to give itself away.

"Case in point," she said in an undertone and Raph nodded.

Brandi, resigned, hoisted Robyn up onto her hip so she would at least stay still, and got on with the pleasantries.

"Well, I'd introduce this one to you," she nodded at the child. "But, she kind of likes to introduce herself. Have at it…" she nodded in Raph's direction for Robyn's benefit, but the little girl looked as though she could hardly believe her ears.

"Really?" she breathed.

"A shortened version," Brandi complied. "Raph doesn't have all day," Raph himself looked beyond confused.

Taking a deep breath, Robyn blasted off, "My name is Robyn Mary Shannon, I'm five years old and I was born on the Fourth of July!" she exclaimed with her usual amount of zest. "I can dance and I can sing, and I can…"

"Very good," Brandi cut her off before the true spectacle could begin, bouncing her so she would not come off her hips.

"But I wasn't done!"

Brandi ignored this for the most part, mostly because the men were now migrating their way toward all the noise; not about to be left out when all their ladies – daughters, girlfriends, and wives alike – were alone with another handsome man. Peter carried Max, who was still combing his fingers for excess dough, and Marshall and Mark joined. Peter and Marshall, obviously, knew who Raph was but for Mark it would be a new experience.

"You want do the honors for your brother instead?" Brandi asked to placate Robyn. "Since he can't exactly say his own name."

"All right…" Robyn sighed, and Raph's eyes flickered to the little boy. "That's Max," the sister brandished a very flippant hand. "He's two…"

"He's almost two," Brandi clarified. "He turns next month in September."

"Ah…" Raph nodded.

"His name is actually Maxwell Scott Alpert," Robyn rattled off. "But nobody calls him that."

"Probably because it makes him sound like he owns a law firm," Mary groused, throwing Raph what she hoped was a pitying look; he had not signed on for this.

"An admirable future career," Marshall was optimistic as he shook Raph's hand and made Mark aware of whom he was – the abbreviated version, anyway. Peter also took his turn at grasping fingers while Raph made eyes at Max; more endeared to the one who didn't talk as much.

"I wish I had not intruded…" the former-fiancée wiggled his fingers at all of them, clearly dying to get out of the room. "I really just wanted to say hello to Mary, but I can go…" he made for the door, but Norah piped up from the floor, dancing on the spot telling the two most important men in her life about Raph's offer.

"Daddy, did you hear where I get to go?" she asked Mark. "You'll never guess!" her eyes darted to Marshall, addressing him as well.

"I bet a lot that we won't," Marshall agreed. "Spill the beans, champ."

"Mom's f…" her voice trailed away in an instant and for the briefest moment, she looked completely perplexed.

Norah turned her head to look at Raph and then at Mary, her big eyes skeptical and dubious, like whatever she'd been about to say didn't seem certain anymore. Mary was befuddled herself trying to figure out the sudden shift in mood, and it was clear the men were as well. Mark was the one who got her talking again.

"Where do you get to go cutie?" he nudged her shoulder to get her to turn back around. "Somewhere with Raph?" he obviously thought this was a little odd, but was willing to play along.

Fortunately, Norah took it at face value and continued, "Raph helps the baseball players that play for the Isotopes, and he said I could come and watch batting practice sometime!"

This garnered a great chorus of 'ooh's' and 'ahh's' from Mark, Marshall, even Peter. Mary was endeared to the way all the gentlemen fawned over her daughter, but it was plain Raph was starting to feel embarrassed. After a few more courteous words that the gesture was not a big deal, he definitely started to migrate toward the door. Marshall obviously sensed it was time to wrap it up and herded the rest of the gang back toward the kitchen, although he lingered nearby.

Mary opened the hatch and Raph stepped onto the porch. He seemed a little more relaxed now without so many people, and he added a lengthy goodbye.

"It was good to see you, Mary…" he expressed. "I am glad everything is well."

"Thanks," she told him, Marshall hovering in the corner of her eye; he wasn't close enough to hear them, but close enough to be a presence in their minds. "I'm sorry about all the…hoopla…" she waved a hand over her back to indicate the team. "It's been a crazy day."

"I don't mind," he shook his head. "It is nice to see both you and Brandi so happy. You know, when I saw you a couple years ago – you said you were happy, but I wasn't sure whether it was true. It seemed like something was missing."

Mary was surprised by his intuition and resolved to nod, knowing she had been happy _enough_ during that time – content, at least partially satisfied. But, he was right; she was not entirely over the moon. Who was, really?

"Well, something _was_ missing…" she offered, eyes brushing sideways for a fraction of a second, but she chose not to elaborate on that and decided it was best to give him some interest as well. "Are you and Victoria…" she tried to figure the best way to word this. "Do you…I mean, do you have a family?"

Well, they certainly had a _family_. Raph had a mother and an aunt and three sisters, the final of which Mary had never gotten to meet. But, they weren't who she meant; she hoped her belly spoke for itself.

"We had a baby girl last June," he revealed, finally showing his brilliantly shining white teeth he had kept under wraps until now. "Cecilia, she is called."

"Must be something in the water here," Mary laughed, referring to the gender; Max was going to have to repopulate the earth judging by the direction they were headed. "That's great," she offered him a smile too. "You'll tell Vic I think so?"

"Sure," he nodded. "Congratulations to you too…" he obviously thought it was safe to mention such a thing now, even though Mary had brought it up right at the onset of their conversation. "I guess you and Mark…"

Mary was not even all that surprised by the assumption, since Norah's father was here in the house along with what Raph considered to be simply her best friend – and Marshall had been engaged the last time they'd seen each other. But, all she did was shake her head and smile softly, tipping her head in the direction of the father-to-be.

"No," she clarified. "Me and Marshall."

Raph gaped momentarily, clearly a little bit ruffled at his mistake but Mary just shrugged.

"Something was missing," it was all she needed to say.

After that, it was smooth sailing. Watching Raph bask in her apparent joy at having children, a man she adored, and a house full of people – all things she used to claim she wanted no part of – it was encouraging. Things might not have gone the right way for them, but they'd both moved on successfully. There was no animosity, no resentment; nothing but mutual respect and cordialness.

"Thanks for stopping in," she concluded. "We'll talk about the baseball thing. Norah's never gonna let it go now, you know that."

Raph chuckled, "Okay. Bye Mary."

With an appealing little wave, he backed off the porch and turned to go down the driveway. Mary was waving too, until she caught sight of yet another familiar face barreling up the front walk – the visitors just wouldn't quit. However, she was pretty pleased to see the bald head of Stan jogging in, sparing waggled fingers to the man who was passing him to leave. Mary hadn't seen him since he'd left early the afternoon prior; he'd called Marshall to express his relief, but left them alone otherwise.

"Inspector!" he called, giving Mary the second hug of his visit but at least this one was brief; a quick squeeze before stepping back. "Was that Raphael I just saw?"

"None other," Mary told him. "What's up?" she allowed him inside and shut the door another time.

"Well, I have a few minutes before I'm supposed to meet Lia, and I did promise my little lady…"

At the sound of the commanding voice, Norah whipped around from where she was standing at the island helping Brandi arrange a few more cookies. Stan flashed her a gaping smile and held out his arms, far and wide. Both Mary and Marshall couldn't contain their pleasure as their old boss leapt theatrically through the living room to the kitchen, with the agility of a much younger man.

"Stan!" the little girl announced, as if nobody could see him. "I forgot that you were here!"

"You _forgot_ about me?" the man mimicked a pout and immediately lifted Norah into his arms once they were close enough, halfway between living room and kitchen. "I'm wounded!"

"I didn't _forget_ about you!" Norah insisted, wiggling in his grasp trying to get comfortable. "I just forgot you were visiting!"

"Well, I suppose I can let something like that slide…" Stan exhaled still-more dramatically. And then, "How you doing, solider?" he grinned genially this time and kissed her forehead sweetly. "Been studying up on that legal lingo?"

"I don't study in the summer," Norah informed him seriously.

"And yet, _every_ August when I'm here you always seem to know…" Stan praised, carting her back to the snacks and saying hellos to the rest of the guests.

Mary stayed behind with Marshall, figuring there must've been a reason he'd hung out before she'd said her farewell to Raph. Turning and facing him where he stood in front of the window, she snaked her arms around his waist and leaned into his touch, letting him pull her in close before sneaking a quick kiss. Marshall allowed it to go a little deeper, capturing her lips twice more before she eventually glided away. They were pinched tight together, but the pressure was reassuring; almost calming.

"Not sure how I feel about all these _men_ in the house giving favors to my lady…" he whispered in her ear, but Mary knew he was joking.

"Gonna bust one of 'em up, right?" Mary was willing to go with it, blinking up into his eyes of palest blue. "Turn 'em black and blue or clock your glock?"

"Far from," Marshall turned diplomatic at once. "Despite the unusual number of ex-boyfriends, ex-husbands, ex-fiancées, or ex-chief's in residence…"

"Ew; don't lump Stan in there if you want me to keep my lunch down…" Mary made a face, crinkling her nose.

"…It is _my_ bun in the oven…" Marshall went right on, completely ignoring her disgust. "And I am merely quite happy to report that you seem abnormally friendly with all of them. Something in the water indeed," he raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, you do know there are about ten simpler ways to say that sentence, right?"Mary mocked, but she smirked regardless.

"All right then," Marshall was agreeable, using the hands he had wound around her back to squeeze her typically tight muscles. "I am glad you're accepting help – liberality, the bounty of a big heart," he obviously could not stop himself from going on and on. "In other words…it was really nice of Raph to do what he did for Norah," there was a drop in his scholarly tone as he became more natural. "I _cannot_ be jealous of that. Does help that I heard he's got a wife and a kid though," he topped this off with a wink.

"Yeah…" Mary sighed, becoming a little distracted with how soothing his fingers were against her spine. "I kind of forgot how nice it can be to talk to him – just because he's a good guy. The passion's totally shot; if it was ever there," she shrugged. "I'm really happy he found someone."

"Sounds like he was glad for you too," Marshall expressed.

At that moment, there was a bustling in their midst and the pair broke apart to see what the commotion was about. Norah appeared at their side, having ditched Stan who seemed busy with Max for the time being. Mary noticed at once that she had that trademark look she'd sported earlier – a feeling of befuddlement. There was nothing disconcerting about it; it was clear she was not upset. But she was definitely doubtful about something.

Before Mary could inquire, "Mommy, can I ask you something?"

"You can," she nodded, parting from Marshall a little more completely to give Norah her undivided attention.

It took a moment; her daughter was obviously feeling hesitant or unsure. Her eyes kept darting to the door and back – perhaps about the last person who had gone through it. Mary waited as patiently as she could for what seemed to be an important question.

"Was that man…?" she didn't look at Mary immediately, but eventually her eyes probed the correct direction. "Was Raph…" a swallow.

And then…

"Is he your friend?"

Marshall had said it was true. He'd told Mary that Norah worried about her; that she concerned herself with whether or not her mother had anyone with which to share her life. The query proved, without question, that it was accurate. For the first time, Mary began to wonder whether Norah's little adventure had more to do with hanging on to someone with whom Mary could be happy, and less about keeping Marshall in her own life. She knew it was more complicated than that, of course. Norah knew they were more than friends; she also had a lot at stake where Marshall was concerned and wouldn't want to lose him.

Mary suddenly found she didn't want her child losing faith either.

"Yes," it was all she said, but she punctuated it with a nod and a tiny smile.

"He is?" Norah looked like she might be daring to hope. "He is, really?"

"Of course," Mary emphasized. "He wouldn't have asked you to go to the baseball game if he wasn't."

This did it. The smile that appeared on her daughter's face was worth however far Mary might be stretching the truth. It couldn't have been clearer she was thrilled her mother had an acquaintance – someone besides a sister or the father of her child. Mary thought, trying to remember if she'd ever had such qualms about Jinx. Her mother hadn't had many friends when she'd been growing up either.

"That's good," Norah finally said. "You know…mom, I didn't just want to talk to Marshall yesterday 'cause I missed him…"

She'd been right.

"I know, Bug. You don't have to explain it," Mary assured her. "Raph is an excellent friend. He's a very nice man."

The little girl's smile turned suddenly devious; her true colors were beginning to shine through and Mary couldn't help thinking how much she'd missed seeing those shades of red and blue and yellow at her greatest moments.

"Not nicer than Marshall, though," a very well-timed blink, batting of her eyelashes. Well, her grandfather's middle name had been 'Wiley.'

"Nah…" Mary also took her turn at smirking cunningly as she turned back to Marshall himself, looking pleased as all-get-out such a conversation was occurring.

His hand journeyed down her hair to pat her cheek; his long, delicate, gentle fingers. Mary rapidly realized how bare they looked. And how much nicer the fourth one would look with a ring.

"_Nobody's_ nicer than Marshall."

XXX

**A/N: This one was long! Hopefully, Raph served his purpose; he did show up for a reason – to put Norah's little mind at ease that her mother is not all alone, with or without Marshall.**

**But we all prefer with! :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Thank-you for all the reviews!  
**

XXX

The afternoon celebrations eventually turned into evening celebrations, and the evening celebrations turned into a sleepover. Peter did go home, saying he needed to be up early for a meeting the next day, and Mark did the same. Brandi offered to stay and help Mary and Marshall with the kids; Robyn and Max in particular didn't seem to be able to slow down long enough to go home. It was easier to just let them gambol about than waste the energy trying to get them through the door. In any case, Mary kind of liked having the house full of children, a thought that startled her when she stopped to contemplate it.

When the day had turned to black and the sun was replaced by the stars, Mary was in the kitchen doing some last minute tidying-up. Brandi was working on the couch, paper perched over her bended knee; she'd missed some time with the Norah-fiasco and was running to get caught up. Mary had already put Norah to bed and was headed in to say goodnight as soon as she finished. Max had crashed in one of the chairs, his cheek pressed into the armrest, his mouth wide open. That left Marshall who was waiting in the bedroom, and Robyn who was finishing putting Candy Land back in its box.

That was when Mary felt it – right as she bent to slide the last of the plates in the dishwasher. The steady _thump-thump-thump _against the crest of her belly that meant her daughter was either agitated or simply trying to find a good spot to rest for the night. Still, the flutters persisted even after Mary stood and her eyes landed on Robyn.

She knew it was Norah's newfound-homebound that was making her extra-tolerant, but it was a little something else as well. Something she couldn't quite place just yet.

"Robyn?" she called as nonchalantly as possible; it was important to do this delicately. Judging by her reaction to the baby's sex, her screams of delight might wake Max and stir the rest of the team.

"Yeah?" the little one looked up; she was wearing pink satin pajamas and her hair had been let down; even longer than Norah's, she could practically sit on it.

"Come here a second, babe."

Robyn turned to Brandi and actually asked for approval, as she was not quite finished cleaning up – a rare act if ever both had seen one. But, Brandi nudged her along, telling her to go see what Mary wanted. The five-year-old accepted the leeway immediately and her little bare feet went slap-pat across the hardwood as she ran.

Meeting Mary in the kitchen, she gazed up at her with her enormous, doe-like eyes; almost the exact same shade as Peter's, "What?"

Her aunt reached out and curled her fingers around her niece's wrist, guiding her to the spot where she'd felt the toes flickering just seconds before.

"Here…feel right there…" the woman instructed, waiting to see if the being within was going to make its presence known another time.

Robyn was on the fast track to flipping out already; she began to chatter a mile a minute, bouncing up and down on the spot with her hand practically glued to Mary's shirt. She was an outbreak of animation and nothing had even happened yet.

"Did she do something?" she babbled, again pressing her ear to the spot. "Did she move? Did you feel her? I'm gonna feel her too; I _am_!" she insisted adamantly.

But, the feeling of anticipation tapered for both almost as quickly as it had come on. Mary knew how it was when the little one began to calm; the motions would die down; they'd become lighter, less frequent, and eventually stop as she went to sleep – or so her mother assumed. Robyn became impatient quickly, and Mary knew she was going to have to disappoint her.

"Where is she?" once more, she leaned in close as though the baby was going to start speaking. "Where did she go?"

"Sorry babe; she must've gotten comfortable…" Mary shrugged, a little disappointed herself; here she'd gone outside what usually put her at ease and it hadn't worked. There was no telling when she'd feel buoyant enough to do it again.

Robyn was much less understated in her displeasure and removed her hands from the swollen sphere, looking extremely put-out. Mary prepared herself for the landslide.

"I _never_ get to feel her! Why doesn't she like me? She likes Noah – and she likes you and Marshall and she _never_ does anything when I'm here!" she wasn't going to throw a tantrum, but it was clear she was fed-up. Brandi was about to come in and put a stop to the meltdown when her child's voice just climbed higher, "_I_ knew she was a girl! _I _knew that! Nobody _else_ knew! And…!"

But Mary's intuition sensed it coming on again; she could feel the waves being made, feel the ruckus being caused beneath. It was still under the tide at the moment, but maybe it was the cousin's voice that was causing the miniscule uproar. Maybe all she had to do was…

"Robyn…" she yanked her hand a little more roughly this time, bound and determined to do this when she was in a good mood. "Try again – hang on…"

To Mary's surprise, she actually resisted and tried to pull away but her aunt held fast. Brandi was among them now, watching her sister firmly place the fingers back from whence they'd come.

"I don't believe you!" Robyn declared just as loudly, but Mary cut her off, having to hold her hand on the bump so she'd stay put.

"Shh…be quiet…" she cautioned carefully. "Be really quiet…" she even dropped her own voice hoping Robyn would understand. "Just wait…"

Robyn did stop yelling, although her face remained a little reddened as she contemplated whether the situation was worth a fit. However, Mary thought it was safe to leave her hand where it so desperately wanted to stay and let go, trusting Robyn to hang on one more second.

It took a moment, but fortunately the little girl decided to take her aunt's words to heart. Her anger faded temporarily and she graduated to both hands – feeling, shifting, moving, blinking.

And there it was. Three beats just like before – _bump-bump-bump_. Mary felt the little fleet of flurrying limbs like they were hiccups or butterflies, but whatever Robyn experienced against her hand prompted the most miniscule gasp. Mary thought sure she'd fly into her usual method of drama and exhilaration, but she did nothing of the sort. She moved her own feet so she was standing directly in front of Mary and laid both palms flat on either side of her belly like she was testing for something.

But, then she looked up. Blinking shyly, her mouth was part-way open and it was clear that for the very first time in her short five years, Robyn was shocked speechless. Mary was grateful her little one was still feeling active, because there was more as her niece stayed silent. The look of awe and wonder on her face was paramount; she reminded Mary so much of Max when she'd cut his hair. A whole new way to look at the world – whatever Robyn had expected, it wasn't this.

Brandi, unable to contain her glee, finally got in on the action.

"Did you feel something sweetheart?" she knelt and intertwined her fingers with her daughter's to see. "Wow!" Brandi laughed, hoarse and scratchy. "Isn't that amazing? She's so strong; see how she gets moving when you're quiet…" just like a mom.

But, Robyn's eyes were with Mary's, "_That's_ the baby?" she finally whispered in a hushed voice.

"Unless there's something else growing in there," Mary quipped. "Pretty sure that would be her."

Before she'd even finished her sentence, the one underneath sprung them all with a little sharper kick – one of the most resilient Mary had felt since the onslaught of the pregnancy. It certainly surprised Robyn, who jumped when her aunt's hand leapt to the spot on instinct, knocking the smaller one aside.

"Whoa!" Brandi was still chuckling as Robyn managed a delighted giggle. "That was a big one! She's letting you know she means business!"

Mary rubbed the spot a little bit; it wasn't painful, just startling. But, watching Robyn across from her – the bashful, understated little smile on her face as Brandi swept her in for a kiss; she couldn't help feeling proud of herself for letting this come about. She loved her niece; she always had. But, she'd always kind of seen her as an odd duck. She was girly; she was melodramatic; she was brazen. She craved attention and loved the spotlight – all things Mary simply couldn't fashion in her own daughters. But, giving her a chance here had been worth it. Underneath, she was something else. She was optimistic, she was curious, and if nothing else, she already adored her little cousin.

"Did I do that to you when I was in your belly?" she was asking Brandi.

"Quite a bit," her mother answered.

This comment struck some inspiration in Mary; she was on a high after her little revelation and decided to run with it. It was time for everyone to get to bed, and she had the perfect nighttime tale.

"You know, babe…" she began, stepping over and taking her around the waist. With a groan, she lifted her up even knowing she shouldn't; much longer, she'd be out of that business all together. "I was there when you showed up. Did you know that?"

"No…" she was visibly surprised, raising her eyebrows and wiggling from her spot in Mary's arms to appeal to Brandi. "Mary was with you? When I came? You just said daddy wasn't there…"

"Well, he wasn't," Brandi fingered her hair lightly. "I never got around to mentioning Mary got a front-row seat to your appearance."

"How'd I look?" Robyn wanted to know. "Right-right away. Mommy said she didn't get to see at the very beginning."

"That is true…" Mary affirmed, brushing over the fact that Brandi had been passing out during that time. Slowly, she began to migrate toward Norah's bedroom, carting Robyn and leaving her sister to grin fondly. "I don't know; you looked like a baby. Covered in muck."

"Was not!"

"Was too," Mary argued. "Don't feel bad. Everybody is when they come out. It's messy down there in your belly."

Or near there, anyway, Mary thought as she eased open the crack in Norah's door with her socked foot. Norah was already in bed, bathed in the hush glow of her bedside lamp. She lay on her stomach, long locks spread all down her back, perched on her elbows trying to read one of her picture books. She followed with her finger; Mary could see her mouthing trying to sound out the letters. The sleeping bag they dragged out when Robyn stayed over was on the floor; extra pillow already in place.

"So, what'd I do after I came out?" Robyn persisted as Mary stooped to put her to the floor; she scampered into her sleeping bag, crawling in the confines as she listened.

Norah became interested as well and looked up to inquire, "Came out where?"

"She's telling me about when I was born," Robyn announced proudly, shimmying her little body into the sleeping bag. "Mommy remembers everything before, but not when I actually got here."

"Well, not much anyway," Mary corrected, lowering herself onto the floor, which she knew was an enormous mistake; she'd have a hard time getting back up. "It's kind of fuzzy for her."

"How come?" Norah interrupted, not giving her mother a chance to answer her cousin's latest question.

"Well…" Mary leaned on one hand, trying to figure out the best way to gloss over the circumstances. "When babies show up, their head is supposed to come first. Robyn's head decided to come last."

"Huh?" Norah wrinkled her nose.

Robyn did the same, "What? How'd I get out if my head didn't come? Did I get stuck?"

"No," Mary laughed, although that was as good an explanation as any. She allowed herself to lean back on both hands now, trying to stretch her back as she tilted to peer at both girls; one up and one down. "Your butt was gonna come first, if you can imagine that," she poked at Robyn's body with her foot and she giggled feverishly at the mere idea.

"No way!" Norah was fascinated and slid her book to the end table, shifting onto her elbow. "Did _my_ head come at the beginning?"

Mary, one who was usually about as squeamish as Stan about pregnancy, couldn't help thinking how amusing this all was when neither one of these girls really knew how babies came into the world in either sense. With a smirk, she imagined they pictured an infant busting out of their mother's intestinal wall. If that was the case, it was no wonder Norah found it interesting.

"Yes, your head came at the beginning," she recalled.

"Did I cry?" Robyn piped up, which pretty much answered her prior question of, 'What did I do when I came out?'

"Loudly," Mary told her with a definitive nod. "Right away."

"Aw…" her niece pouted, no doubt equating crying with being babyish and juvenile; she often scolded Max when he whined and found it tiresome.

"Almost all babies cry when they arrive," Mary assured her. "They're supposed to, anyway. It's how you know they're breathing and that they made it out okay – that they didn't get hurt on the ride," she fabricated with a well-timed wink, which seemed to make Robyn feel a bit better.

Norah, however, was now becoming curious about her own experience. She knew a few things – more than Robyn, anyway, but not the nitty gritty.

"Did I cry mommy? Did I? Did I?"

She was obviously waiting to be told she had not, thus solidifying the fact that she had somehow topped Robyn with her usual competitive nature. Mary was just thinking that there were indeed exceptions to every rule.

"Not at first," her mother admitted softly. "It took you a little while."

"Ha!" Norah puffed out her chest.

But, Mary was having an entirely different feeling, blocking out the sound of her child's gloating as Robyn settled herself on her pillow, rolling onto her side to face her cousin's bed. It wasn't until Norah had brought it up that Mary began to realize just how badly she wanted _this_ baby to go to term. Norah hadn't been due until the very last week in September and had come at the onset of the second week of August. Despite how she denied it to most, Mary did not relish such a thing happening again. She wondered if, subconsciously, that was one of the reasons she'd stepped down at work so willingly. Her liking to taking risks while with child wasn't as heightened as it once was.

"All right girlies…" she said to put an end to the conversation, somehow managing to stand up none-too-elegantly, accompanied by a loud groan. "It's time for lights out. You can talk for a couple minutes; Brandi will probably be in to say goodnight too, but then you need to go to sleep."

Both Norah and Robyn voiced their understanding of the concept, and Norah stretched to turn out her lamp, sweeping them all in darkness but for the tiny, dim nightlight plugged into the wall. Her niece was sequestered in her sleeping bag like a caterpillar, and Norah was sinking beneath her covers as well.

Carefully, Mary tread among the body on the floor just hoping she did not trip. Once at the head, she bent way over to kiss Robyn's hair, working hard not to lose her balance.

"Night babe," she whispered. "Sleep well."

"Okay…" Robyn yawned, unexpectedly tired all of a sudden. But, even as she closed her eyes, she broached another question, "…Mary?"

"Yep."

The lids sputtered to life another time; just slits in her face, cast in a half-moon from the nightlight.

"You really _were_ there when I came?"

"I was," a nod.

"Well…" she continued. "Mommy wasn't awake…"

"She remembers most of it, Rob. It's a very little bit that she doesn't," Mary promised, not wanting the little one to fret over such a thing.

But, Robyn was as uncertain as Mary had ever seen her. It was a strange look; not one her aunt was used to. She was unfailingly confident about everything under the sun; she never got scared, she rarely asked for help, and never doubted herself.

With a jolt, Mary realized who she reminded her of. Herself.

"What is it babe?" she pressed quietly.

Robyn spared the tiniest of glances to Norah before voicing the fear.

"Are you _sure_ I was born on the Fourth of July?"

Mary really and truly might've laughed if she hadn't known how serious Robyn was. In her world, this was a huge deal. It was her life blood. If it turned out it wasn't true, what did she have anymore? The simple minds of the five-year-olds.

But, she smiled and just hoped the child could see her through the darkness.

"I would never miss something that big," she insisted. "Scout's honor – you are an Independence Day baby. I was there."

And with that, Robyn grinned and snuggled back down to sleep, leaving Mary free to give Norah her goodnights. It was an easier slump to administer the kiss on this front, which she dropped on her daughter's forehead. Norah even puckered up and planted a very sloppy one of her own on Mary's cheek, which prompted a laugh.

"Goodnight love," she whispered. "Be good."

She wondered if she would've placed such a stipulation two days ago; if she was convincing herself she said it just because she had a roommate.

"I always am," was Norah's prompt response.

Her dark eyes danced in the blackness that cloaked the three of them. They glimmered like snuffed out candles as they probed her mother's face. She wore such a charming, charismatic little smile. She'd spotted something in Mary, and whatever it was-was flooding her heart with joy.

The parent didn't know where it came from; she was only six after all, and how honed could her intuition be? But, even in just a day there was an alteration there, and sometimes the most innocent of the world were the ones to capture it first. It could've been the return of Marshall, it could've been her fun-filled day; it could've been Raph solidifying Mary was not all alone in the world. It could've been all those things and more.

Before Mary could react to her child's declaration, she spoke up again.

"Love you, mom."

Mary felt the smile sneak onto her face; stretching her cheeks, pinching the corners of her eyes as she realized what the perfect comeback would be.

"I love you more, Bug."

XXX

**A/N: I'm gonna miss you guys when this is over! Only two to go!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank-you for continuing to review! I wish I could take you all with me when this ends!**

XXX

Mary's walk back to her bedroom after saying goodnight to the girls was only hindered by her waving to Brandi to indicate she was turning in. Her little sister had promised to look after any child that might rise in the night, and of course Max if he became fussy. At nearly two, he was big enough to sleep in the chair all night but the uncertainty of waking up somewhere unfamiliar might prompt crabbiness. But, Mary was not on duty tonight.

The light in the bedroom was on when Mary entered and shut the door behind her. Marshall was still fully awake, half-reclined against the headboard reading his latest mystery. At her presence, he looked up and smiled.

"Hi…" a rather large yawn escaped with the single word and he stretched widely, arms and book drawn over his head. "Kids down?"

"For awhile, I suppose…" Mary mused.

She had planned to go to the closet and unearth some pajamas, but Marshall's arms extended so far and wide from his stretching made him look awfully inviting. She was dressed comfortably enough, and it didn't matter anyway. She went straight to her side of the bed and fell with a dramatic flop, making the mattress jiggle, topping it off with an enormous sigh. Her head found his groove almost instantly even though she was halfway down the bed and it met his waist.

"_That_ was pretty theatrical," the man decided, hand finding her hair as easily as her head had inched into the curve of his long and lanky body. "Gonna give Robyn a run for her money."

"Mmm…" Mary hummed, loving the way his nails felt against her scalp. "I really doubt it."

"I have been meaning to ask you, though…" Marshall voiced from above, brushing Robyn aside. "How have you been feeling today?" her massive exhale must've reminded him. "You've been pretty hot-and-cold lately. If we get half a second, we really should have someone get a read on your blood pressure. I cannot imagine what yesterday did to it."

"And…why do I need a doctor?" Mary groused, opening her eyes and peering up at him sideways; he looked funny and lopsided floating above her reclined form. "When I have you."

"An honest answer, that's all I ask…" he requested.

Mary thought. She thought a little harder than she might've done ordinarily, mostly because she was soothed by Marshall's gentle fingers rumpling up her hair while she closed her eyes once more. But, try as she might, she couldn't even recall feeling the smallest twinge throughout the day. The day before – sure. And every other, practically. But not today. She had been as relaxed as she'd been before pregnancy, aside from the getting up and getting down.

"Today was a fluke," was her way of expressing this. "I felt great. Does that mean I'll feel like shit again tomorrow?"

"Well, let's hope not," Marshall articulated, keeping her content as long as stroked her hair. "But, I am glad to hear it nonetheless. I wonder why that might be."

Mary could tell by the way his voice rose in that boyish way it sometimes did that he had a shrewd idea. But, she did not take the bait as she was simply considering the best way to bring up what she imagined was already on his mind. The trance he was putting her into didn't help her train of thought; it was free-floating with images of Robyn – both five years old and five seconds old – of Norah's sweet smile, even of Brandi in the living room. The minutes ticked on and Marshall kept quiet, but the combination of Mary's thoughts took her down an interesting path.

Marshall was still caressing his way through her tangles, and her eyes were still closed when the phrase spilled out.

"Do you think I confuse…?" she sighed again; every tickle of his fingers made her heart beat so rhythmically in her chest. "Do you think I confuse being a nice person with being a good person?"

Mary didn't know what made her ask, but she fully expected Marshall to question such an inquiry – to wonder why she was posing such a thing. At the very least, she expected him to disagree, which was why his response was so surprising.

"I think that is often the case," he muttered in a low voice, but he was no less distinct. "I have felt that you have always been a good person – moral, centered, ethical, as it were. I also feel it is pertinent to mention that you are, as you called it, 'nicer' than you used to be."

Mary let a reluctant smile escape at all that complicated jargon spewing from his lips, but he was very serious. It was not meant to build her up or to hurt her; it was simply who she was. She began to feel herself grow lighter with every word that came. He _did_ see her. At least some of her.

"…A little less harsh, anyway," Marshall continued. "That is motherhood taking its toll," she liked the way he phrased it. "But, yes…" he reverted back to the original thought. "I do think you believe not always being kind or well-mannered – and even the best of us are not those things _all_ the time – makes you lesser, somehow. From where did this epiphany arise?"

Mary opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Although he was still unbalanced in the way he lounged above, his form had become sharper somehow. She began to see him in an entirely different way.

"Brandi," she admitted somewhat reluctantly. "I…told her what we've been talking about," she didn't pin it down right away. "When we were waiting on Norah. She seems to think I have an issue with all that…prattling you just went over."

Marshall nodded, and Mary finally decided she had it in her to edge upward slightly. She mourned the absence of his fingers, but she wanted to face him properly. With enough wiggling, she made it onto the pillow at the head of the bed. The cotton was cool and soft on her cheek; Marshall still towered above, but at least he looked a little straighter now.

"Brandi is very intelligent," he acknowledged once she was settled.

"It is a frightening world we've come to live in," was Mary's response to such a remark.

Marshall just smiled. He was enjoying watching the light bulb go on; that much, she could tell. She began to wonder how it was possible for her to convey what she wanted this whole discussion to be about. Beating around the bush hadn't really been in the cards, but it seemed she was doing it more than Marshall was. He was just waiting for her, holding her green eyes in his.

She decided to fall back on Brandi to get it done.

"I think she thinks we should get married," the woman whispered tentatively.

Marshall did not even hesitate, "And what do _you_ think?"

Well, he was asking. And she was the one who supposedly did not want to evade the issue. She might as well share what an exponential leap her frame of mind had taken since yesterday.

"I think we should."

Even as hard as Mary tried to hold his gaze, to probe so deeply to glean what his blue eyes were telling her; they still expressed nothing but uncertainty. In some ways, she couldn't blame him. She'd spent all this time telling him no – in not so many words. And now, all of a sudden, she was latching on at lightning speed without any explanation.

"Mary, I'm afraid you're just doing this because of what happened with Norah…"

Such a phrase prompted her to sit up all the way against the headboard, to plead her case more professionally.

"So what if I am?" she countered.

"Getting married because you're scared is not a good reason…" he shook his head as Mary got herself situated right next to him.

"You're the one who said _not_ getting married because you're scared is not a good reason…" she reminded him.

"Mary, this is like a thirty-second turn-around here," Marshall exaggerated a little to get his point across, gesturing beyond at nothing in particular. "It's not that I don't trust you – I absolutely do. But, can I trust _this_? Can I trust that you won't back away when the trauma dies down and the memories aren't so fresh?" he wondered. "There needs to be more to it than this."

"There is," Mary insisted, but she was running fast trying to think of what. "The fact that I could've lost her…" she also took her turn at motioning, this time at Norah's bedroom. "I mean, losing her _and_ losing you…" she swallowed, surprising herself that she was able to be so rational and less emotional. "I can't do it. I need you in my life – permanently, officially, whatever. And so does Norah."

Marshall chewed on that one for a moment, both literally and figuratively as he bit on his lower lip. But, Mary was inspired that he really did seem to be thinking – not shooting her down or doubting her. Simply thinking. It reminded her very much of their time as partners, and she realized how much she missed that look.

"I'd feel better about this if you told me what was holding you back before," he finally said, turning to face her with a very stern look in his features. "I think we were getting near it with that 'good versus nice' debate."

Now it was Mary's turn to think. Was marriage worth spilling her guts? Marshall was beginning to back down just as she'd wanted him to. He obviously felt badly enough about Norah's excursion that he was going to take nuptials off the table until further notice. But, she'd felt different since said excursion – it had opened her eyes to just how much she needed Marshall in her life as more than a simple live-in-boyfriend, or whatever he was. She could be as fake and as far from her former self as it was possible to be to achieve that.

Slowly, Mary scooted a tiny bit closer to Marshall on the bed. He wove his arm around her back and anchored her where they sat side-by-side. She couldn't look at him at first. It was easier to just stare straight ahead until she worked up the courage to face him with her demons.

"Marshall, when you…accused me of not getting married because of my father…"

"Mmm hmm…" his fingers had reached her other side and began to tickle up and down her arm.

"You were right, but it's really not what you thought – what you're thinking," she continued, fixing her eyes on the opposite wall; it was easier when he was merely a presence, when she could simply feel him pressed against her.

"You will have to help me out on that," Marshall asked for clarification.

Mary obliged, "It's not that I'm afraid to let you in because I let him in, and he left and you might do the same, or some such ordinary chain of events like that…"

"All right then…" he was patient; seemingly, he really did just want the answer. What he'd thought or assumed was less important; all he wished for was the truth. "What's different about it?"

In some ways, Mary supposed it really wasn't _that_ different. Underneath, it might all be exactly the same. Weren't lots of things like that? You convinced yourself you'd started anew; you'd turned over the leaf; you'd come up fresh and ready to start again. But, in the end, those old fears simply manifested themselves as new ones. There was always a way for Mary to try and protect herself from getting hurt.

"My father…" she began again. "Really seemed to think I could do no wrong. He entrusted me with this job to look after Jinx and Brandi; he thought I was somehow capable of doing that even just at seven years old…

"Right," Marshall nodded sedately. "That would be the story I usually hear from you."

He was trying to help her along, but all she could do was swallow and wait until she was truly ready to reveal the rest. She wanted to say it coherently. She wanted it to make sense, because she didn't look forward to going around the bend on such a conversation.

"But, no matter what I did, no matter how wonderful I was; it didn't change anything…" Mary could tell her voice altered to a little more melancholy, and Marshall was kind enough to squeeze the arm he was racing his fingers against. "It wasn't enough for him, even though he constantly told me otherwise during those four or five days he came back before he died."

"I understand that," Marshall topped this off with a second nod; for now, they were on the same page. "I do still need some assistance in what this has to do with us – if it really is as different as you say."

Whether she wanted to or not, Mary knew she was going to have to look at him. She tried to keep those sweet, soft images swirling in her mind – Norah snug in her bed, Robyn contented with her arrival, and Brandi ready to come to the rescue just a few feet down the hall. All of those comforts of home pulled her gaze to Marshall's face and made her blink as a means to get started.

"My father idealized me," she explained. "He saw me as something that I wasn't, which was this strong and tough little girl who wasn't afraid of anything. And it's just hard not to imagine that someone like you…" she didn't want it to sound like a bad thing, but he'd wanted an honest answer. "Someone who lusted after me for eight years…" there were better ways to put that, but she plowed on. "Wasn't idealizing me too. I've been scared in the time that we've been together that you don't see who I really am; that you had this idea you could make me a better person, but I'm _not_ better…"

Mary knew she was beginning to ramble, but fortunately Marshall had keyed in to the real issue at stake and was holding up his hands, pressing them toward the bed to indicate she could stop. With all this came words of his that tumbled over her own.

"Mary…" his free hand floated, dreamlike, and came to rest on her cheek. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she quieted to let him speak. "I love you even when you're difficult," as if it were that easy. "I _loved_ you even when you _were_ difficult."

Mary guessed this was supposed to indicate he'd loved her in spite of her sarcasm, acidity, and general dislike of the human race. But, Marshall would never voice something such as 'in spite of.' He wouldn't look at it that way; it was not who he was. He was too positive, too optimistic for such a thing.

"I've just felt like living up to whatever expectation you might have of me is…" she shrugged, liking the softness of his fingers on the flesh of her cheek. "Unattainable. Like it was with my father."

He furrowed his brow and almost frowned; it made him look hunching and slightly brooding, like he couldn't fathom what she was saying.

"Why would you think I have expectations of you?" he asked in a hushed voice. "I expect you to be responsible, to be tactful on occasion; to be sensible and to take care of our children when I can't…" his touch was so light it began to make her tingly. "I don't expect anything of you I would not expect of the other mere mortals of the world. You're not perfect – you're not invincible. It was James that thought that, not me."

The two ton weight in Mary's chest slowly began to crumble; it began to break apart into the tiniest of pieces like someone had smashed it with a sledge hammer. It not only made her chest not feel so tight, but the muscles in her belly too. She was rapidly feeling as though she could float – lighter than air, with ease, with wings she hadn't known she had.

Still, there was one more thing to take care of before the rock could be broken entirely.

"Part of me still feels like I'm living a lie with you…" she had to admit it; they were so close to being done. "That the changes I made after we got together were just for your benefit – I could revert at any time."

"I suppose I can see why you would believe that…" Marshall mused politely. "But, you do know what _else_ happened during the time we hooked up that might've caused the release."

Mary didn't need to ask; she didn't need to guess. All she needed to do was slip down and lean her head inside Marshall's chest. He shifted his arm almost seamlessly as he allowed her into his touch so her head rested beneath his chin. It felt good to have him protect her like he was.

And, it gave her time to respond to his theory.

"My father died."

She could feel him nod yet another time, "Like it or not, part of that clutch he had on you had to go away. You were free to love a little differently – he'd returned, shown himself, and passed on. The idea that you were no longer waiting for the face to appear on your doorstep changed you," he insisted. "Not to mention Norah – you and I, and Robyn."

Mary knew he was right. She also knew that the last of her worries had just been alleviated, at least as far as marriage was concerned. The escape of her daughter had given her exactly the smack on her head she'd needed to realize what she'd be giving up if she kept such a thing inside; the loss of Marshall was never going to be worth that. However embarrassed she might be to admit to her insecurities, there was no chance a marriage could be built on secrets, even of this kind. She'd needed to get it out to move on.

She knew by the way she sighed that Marshall understood they'd passed to the other side. Because she was lying practically sprawled on his chest – as well as she could with her belly in the way – his hand glided up and down her back. It was always doing something.

"You think it's true…?" Mary murmured almost silently, allowing her eyes to flicker closed. "You think its true Norah left to bring you back to me? And not for herself?"

Marshall answered a lot faster than Mary expected him to.

"I think you're her mother," he dictated, and his woman sensed quite the spiel coming on. "I think you share blood and flesh and bone and heart. And I think that when you're not living life, when you're allowing yourself to be held back; it makes you very unhappy," the hand was squeezing now, and it felt so nice against the crick in her spine. "I think, as your child, Norah senses what makes you unhappy and when _you're_ in any way forlorn or dejected, it is quite hard for her to be anything but," Mary knew he was right. "You are extremely in-sync, and I think that because she loves you she wants what is best for you, and by association herself. Regardless of whether she recognizes such a thing or not."

Mary could not have asked for a better explanation to such a situation – he had covered all the bases. She smirked as she thought about his intelligence and his intellect. She reveled in how much he adored her daughter and how much he was likely to adore his own. She basked in the glory of knowing they'd be holding that little girl in less than three months time. It was a whole new chapter with a world of possibilities; the question was whether they could make the final leap.

"You know, last week when I cut Max's hair…" she switched gears a little bit, but Marshall was tolerant.

"Just a side-step, in case the Marshal thing doesn't work out," he chuckled.

Mary ignored him, "He had this…incredible look on his face," she recalled. "It was like he'd been living in the dark for such a long time. He couldn't grasp or understand or see what was on the other side until I lifted the veil," she explained. "The way he stared at me; it was like I'd just opened this door to all this potential he'd never even considered."

"That's a tall order for a two-year-old," Marshall teased.

"It's funny…" Mary felt herself begin to smile and, spontaneously, she wormed her way off Marshall's chest, leaned up, and faced him perched on her knees. "How good you think things are until someone pulls the curtain aside. You think you're fine; that anything better is out of reach."

Marshall raised his eyebrows, "What are you saying?"

She'd given him an answer. She'd been forthright; she'd been plainspoken. All of her coverts were out there laid bare and here he was. He was here.

He was still here.

"I'm saying I want to marry you," Mary declared boldly. "If you think you can handle a broad like me for the rest of eternity. I'm getting a little anxious to see what's hiding behind the shades."

She felt her face grow warm as she said it, but all the discomfort she'd felt in the last week or two since they'd broached this subject was slowly evaporating. Her unborn little girl _had_ been telling her a few things – she was going to keep making her mother squirm until she got with the program. Mary would have to remember to thank her one day.

"You're sure," Marshall stated; he was a man who liked to have his ducks in a row.

"You want to see just _how_ sure?" Mary taunted.

Rapid-fire hormones in full swing, she stretched off her knees, leaned in and laid one very slipshod, wet, and passionate kiss on his somewhat unsuspecting lips. Her hand found the back of his neck and pulled him in closer, dragging her nails through the hair she could feel bristling in her fingers. The longer she held him close, the deeper she towed him inward, the more convinced he became. Dimly, Mary wondered if he was actually grinning beneath the kiss before they parted and she found that he was.

"You know, I do feel I am slightly emasculated by the fact that after all this, _you_ were the one to ask _me_."

"Get used to it, doofus…" Mary quipped, poking him in the chest with her finger. "That's how I roll."

XXX

**A/N: Hopefully you all are happy with this outcome – and hopefully it happened realistically. Only the epilogue is to come.**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: This is it, friends! I too am sorry to see it end, but the epilogue is really long (maybe too long LOL!)**

XXX

**Three Months Later:**

The grey of the sky reminded Brandi of a swirling cement mixer, or a silvery satin ribbon she might tie in Robyn's hair. The clouds above; the way they encircled and whirled made her think there might be a storm coming on. And yet, despite the gloomy presence of the outdoors, the fact that it had dropped to a brisk forty degrees overnight could not have been more contradictory of Brandi's mood. As far as she was concerned, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and it was warm enough to go swimming if she so desired. Nothing could damper her spirits today – least of all the weather.

All this and more was on her mind as she pulled up at the elementary school drive that afternoon and saw Norah and Robyn leaning against the brick building, arms crossed over their chests to keep heated. She'd dressed Robyn in a red plaid jumper that morning and made her wear her winter coat, which gave her an absurd appearance since all you could see beneath the bulky fabric were her legs covered in white tights. Norah wore her usual jeans and a shirt of blue flannel, which she'd taken care to button, but her coat was bunched up under her arm. Today, Brandi merely found it amusing.

Robyn spotted her first and immediately bolted over, backpack swinging from side-to-side on her shoulders. Norah just waved and didn't move, as she was not expecting to be picked up by her aunt. Robyn reached the car and yanked open the back door, heaving her bag to the space below her feet.

"Hi honey…" Brandi greeted her and was about to go on, but she should've known her daughter would interrupt.

"It's so _cold_!" Robyn insisted as she slid into her seat and immediately shut the door. "I told Norah she's gonna get _super_ sick if she doesn't wear her coat…"

Brandi ignored the story-telling for the most part, "Yeah; I need to go talk to Norah for a second," she undid her seatbelt while Robyn fiddled with the heat vents in back, trying to warm her hands. "You sit tight; don't move to the front, got it?" her mother often had to order her to stay in the backseat away from the airbag.

"Why do you need to talk to Norah?" Robyn asked curiously. "Is she coming home with us?"

"Just hang on…" Brandi had told herself that revealing all to her daughter before her niece was not in the business.

Before Robyn could respond, Brandi had already gotten out and was slamming her own door, shivering as she jogged around the hood of the car and beckoned Norah over. She was just a speck in the distance, but she could still see the woman gesturing and leaned off the wall to join her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold as she skidded to a stop and began to rub her arms for warmth; hair windswept and full of static.

"Hey sweet pea…" Brandi sang to the child. "I've got something to tell you."

"What?" Norah asked immediately, looking remarkably weighed down with holding her coat and trying to keep her bag on her shoulders. "Do you know where Marshall is? Mom said he was gonna pick me up today, but he's not here yet…"

Brandi found the little girl's broken speech almost comical with how chilly she'd gotten and immediately reached for the jacket before answering the questions.

"Silly, put your coat on; it's freezing…" yanking it out of her niece's grasp, she forced her to let her bag slide to the concrete, helping with her arms.

"It's not that cold…" Norah's teeth were chattering.

"Whatever you say," Brandi laughed, no reason to argue on a day like today as she secured the zipper and retrieved Norah's bag from the ground to hold in her hands. "Listen to me…"

"What?" she repeated herself from before, obviously no patience for standing out in weather such as this.

Brandi smiled, nose beginning to drip even in her delight; she really could not have cared less how she looked or if Norah was annoyed because she'd been made to put some sleeves on.

"Marshall's with your mom," she answered softly, and was about to cut to the chase before Norah interrupted.

"At home?" she wanted to know. "Did he have to stay home with her? He told me she felt really sick when I had to go to school this morning."

Her aunt placed what she hoped was a much warmer hand on Norah's shoulder, squeezing as well as she could beneath the hulking fabric of the coat. The little girl was so innocently curious and probing as her long, gorgeous blonde hair churned in a sheet around her face in the bitter wind. It was so remarkable the way children could find the simplest explanations for the most monumental moments.

"Marshall took your mom to the hospital after you left for school," Brandi was very careful to sound casual, knowing how Norah could sometimes worry herself about Mary. And then, just before her niece's eyes were going to grow wide with alarm, "She had the baby this afternoon."

Brandi knew it was likely she looked practically giddy with happiness, but the look on Norah's face was a thousand times better. Unlike those who completely lost their head at the mention of a new baby, her shy and understated joy that lingered just behind her deep brown eyes was irreplaceable. She blinked in this naïve way, as though she couldn't believe her ears, and the most darling half-smile worked its way onto her face. And Brandi knew the light – the sheer radiance – that illuminated in her eyes was the sunshine they'd been missing all day.

"Mommy had the baby?" she finally asked softly, still grinning. "Today?"

"Not very long ago!" Brandi boomed a little loudly, especially considering how gentle Norah's voice was. "Just about an hour before I had to come get you."

Norah just nodded, biting on her lip in something that looked like anticipation. She glanced around, eyes darting in six different directions. Brandi was so thrilled to see her accepting that it just boosted the importance of her next question.

"Are you excited, honey?" she even crouched on her knees to look right into Norah's eyes.

"Well, I…" putting it into words was difficult, something Brandi maybe should've foreseen; it was a lot to grasp for a six-year-old. "Yeah, I mean I'm-I'm excited 'cause…" she stuttered and swallowed, unable to keep her eyes in one place she was so pleasantly overwhelmed. "'Cause mommy's been really sick – that's what Marshall's been saying anyway. He said that all yesterday, that her tummy was really hurting," the little girl pressed on. "But, now her tummy won't hurt anymore, right? She'll feel a lot better."

Brandi was unexpectedly touched by the concern and the intuition Norah had about her mother; how in-tune she was to her movements and her emotions. They were sometimes two peas in a pod.

"Yes, she'll feel much better," Brandi assured her. "You're so sweet, Norah. Come here…"

Partially because she was so moved and partially because it was so cold out, her aunt pulled her in for a quick hug and rapidly rubbed her back hoping to get across how thrilling this all was. She had to wonder how Mary herself must've felt when Robyn and Max had showed up; Brandi hadn't been around when Norah was born, and she was experiencing the elation from the other side this time. It was an entirely new, but nonetheless fabulous feeling.

"Is mom happy?" Norah asked from below her. "That the baby is here?"

"She's very happy," Brandi promised. "Just like I'm sure she was when you were born."

"Marshall's happy too then," Norah assumed, still buried in her chest. "Isn't he?"

"Him too."

Finally, the pair parted and Norah bounced from one foot to the other on the spot, rubbing her hands together, pink-cheeked with cold as well as delight. Brandi couldn't help noticing how her brown eyes, so similar to Mark's, stood out against the steel grey of that around them. She was about to tell her what the plan was – why her aunt was here to pick her up – when Norah asked the question for her.

"Can I see her?" she posed eagerly. "Mommy? Can I go to the hospital and see her? I really want to…"

"Yes," Brandi took her around the shoulder and led her to the car. "I'm gonna take you right now after I drop Robyn off at home."

"Robyn's not coming?" unlike most children, Norah's inquiry about not having her friend along was nowhere near disappointed; she was hardly daring to hope she would get to take such an expedition on her own.

For, as much as Brandi loved her daughter, she knew how much of the thunder she sometimes wielded for herself. Today was about Mary, Marshall, Norah, and the new little one coming into their family. Robyn would get her chance – just not today.

"Peter got the afternoon off with Thanksgiving tomorrow," Brandi explained kindly. "So Robyn's going to stay with him."

The mention of Thanksgiving prompted something else before Norah's fingers reached the coolness of the door handle, "Marshall was supposed to cook a turkey," she grinned deviously. "But, he said if the baby came Jinx was gonna have to do it."

Brandi chuckled, "See. Your sister's stirring up trouble already."

XXX

Marshall sat with one of Mary's hands in his; free palm resting on top of the very same hand he held – the one with the ring. It was undersized, not at all demonstrative, with the smallest bit of shine. And yet, he couldn't help thinking how nice it looked on her finger. He always found it amusing how she fiddled with it, not used to wearing jewelry. But, she was adjusting.

Mary herself was slumped half inside her pillows, white-and-navy spotted gown hanging loosely on her bones. Marshall could see her chest rise and fall while her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks; he could even feel the tiniest pulse of her fingers inside his hand, despite knowing she was practically dead-to-the-world. Even exhausted, he thought she was stunning; pale cheeks, sloppy ponytail at the nape of her neck and all.

Marshall knew in the future he was going to be expected to claim his daughter's birth had taken about five hours – the amount of time they'd spent at the hospital – but underneath he'd known the truth. Mary had been in labor since the early afternoon prior. She was tough as nails, still somehow managing to function through the contractions that gripped at her abdomen for just under twenty-four hours.

And that daughter in question – she was sleeping nearly as soundly as her mother in the bassinet across the room. Marshall stayed awake for only one reason and the sound of the door opening and closing reminded him of what it was.

Starting, but hoping he did not rouse Mary, he gently laid her hand back to her side at the bed and stood up, rubbing his eyes as he did so. There was an inner wall that separated visitors from viewing the room in full, and Marshall tiptoed lightly to find Brandi and Norah standing there – Brandi looking jovial as all-get-out, Norah just a little bit nervous but no less pleased.

Marshall's face broke into a tired smile, "Hey champ…" he whispered. "Brandi gave you the run-down right? You know the drill? Know your mom got her lap back?" he teased.

Norah giggled, "Yeah. Is mom here?" she peered around Marshall's long form to try and see, and he knew nothing was going to be able to keep her from Mary.

"Don't think she's going anywhere for the present," Marshall conceded, and was unable to help himself from scooping Norah up and into his arms; not simply because he didn't want her bombarding an exhausted Mary, but because he wanted her close.

He'd reminded himself many a time that he and Mary's having a baby did not lessen the impact it was going to have on Norah; her life was going to change too, even if they didn't say it out loud.

Norah placed her hands on his cheeks, raking her fingers up and down, "You're scratchy," she joked.

"It is true I have not gotten around to shaving since yesterday," Marshall admitted. "It's been a busy couple of days." And then, trying not to forget the chauffer, "Thanks for bringing her down, Brandi. Mary was asking for her before she fell asleep."

"Oh, she's asleep?" the younger sister dropped her voice to be mindful of the circumstances. "Do you want us to come back?"

Once Norah got wind of this, it was clear she was going to have no part of it, "Marshall, I'll be really quiet," she promised. "Please, can I stay?" she begged squeakily with trying to soften her approach.

But, Marshall really had no plans to turn away the guests, "It's fine," he assured Brandi. "I'd be surprised if a nuclear missile woke her up right now. She's pretty wiped out."

"I can imagine," Brandi chuckled hoarsely. "So long as we're staying, I think we need to get a look at the main attraction," she smiled hungrily, hardly able to contain her excitement at getting her hands on her newest niece.

"I would be more than happy to do the honors," Marshall nodded proudly and gestured Brandi in ahead of him, carrying Norah, her aunt tiptoeing like an elf trying to get to the bassinet.

While Brandi oohed-and-ahhed over in the corner by the window – as silently as she could – Norah got a good view of Mary crashed out from her spot in Marshall's arms. If the man wasn't mistaken, she clung to him a little tighter as she tried to unlock the mystery of why her mother was passed out in the middle of the afternoon. He couldn't forget how little she really was.

"Why's mommy asleep?" she asked predictably. "It's not nighttime. And I thought she was tired of being in bed all the time."

"Well, it's a lot of work having a baby," Marshall explained. "It made her pretty sleepy; she needs to catch up on some rest."

"But I thought you said the doctor was gonna help her have the baby," Norah murmured, trying to get her facts straight.

"She did," Marshall referred to Doctor Reese. "But still, mom's gotta do the hard part. I admit it's kind of complicated to explain."

Fortunately, Norah accepted that and went quiet again. Marshall could tell by her face she was disappointed Mary was not there to talk to, and almost endeared to the fact that she was more interested in her mother than in her sister. It didn't surprise him in the least; she and Mary were thick-as-thieves. It was only natural Norah would be concerned about her.

"You can go sit over there next to her if you want…" he ended up offering, sliding her gently to the ground and indicating his vacated chair. "Just make sure you stay quiet."

"I will…" Norah nodded agreeably and shuffled her way to the seat, climbing in by pushing herself up with her hands.

Before Marshall went to rejoin Brandi, he marveled in how all Norah wanted to do was watch. If she couldn't have Mary in the here and now, she wanted to be as close as possible. Disturbing her was not a problem; just being together was enough right now.

Over at the bassinet, Brandi was having some sort of silent fit as she made eyes at the newborn and Marshall couldn't help but smile. He placed his hand on the woman's shoulder as he approached and she turned to look up at him, a beaming grin on her face.

"Marshall, she's _gorgeous_…" Brandi gushed, extending a finger to the little girl's belly and tickling lightly. "I know you didn't have a ton of time to talk earlier, but the delivery went okay? Nothing went wrong?"

"No, everything was pretty much routine…" Marshall said with relief, and he hadn't been talking two seconds before he had to lift his daughter out of the bassinet. Working his hands around her tiny body, he kept up with the report, "They had to put Mary on oxygen a couple times because her blood pressure was spiking…"

"Well, that's why they've had her on bed rest since Halloween," Brandi recalled. "Because of her blood pressure, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" Marshall nodded a little distractedly. "But, it wasn't a big deal. Think it annoyed Mary more than anything else," he decided with a laugh.

After that, he became incapable of speaking because he'd secured this minute little being in his grasp, resting her perfect softball-sized head in the crook of his arm. Marshall was not a believer of perfection; something so pure of heart could not possibly exist, and yet he thought – surely – if there was anything as flawless in this world, it was sleeping serenely against his chest right now. Her loved her; he loved her more than earth, sky, sun, and moon and felt certain if she were to ask for all those things he'd be hard-pressed not to take a lasso and pull them down to the ground. From her twitching red toes, to her cherubic cheeks squashed comically under her eyes pinched so tightly shut, to the unrivaled softness of her skin. He had a daughter and he adored her – all seven pounds, one ounce of her.

If possible, he loved her even more because she was Mary's.

Marshall's feet, for whatever reason, seemed to have left Brandi and migrated to the opposite side of the bed to Norah – his first love; flesh and blood be damned. The child looked up at him, with eyes that were not his but with eyes he cherished nonetheless. At first, she was perfectly sedate; she just watched him, legs dangling and waiting for what came next.

"Hey gorgeous…" he began. "You want to hold her?"

"I'm big enough?" Norah whispered tentatively, Mary still snoozing amongst the hushed conversation.

"If I say you're big enough, you're big enough," Marshall swore. "I'll help you out. I won't let you drop her."

This last promise, especially, seemed to boost Norah's confidence a little and she edged her rear-end to the frame of the chair, poised for instructions. Marshall knelt part-way while Brandi watched fondly nearby and Norah held out her arms instinctively.

"She's fragile, but you can handle her…" Marshall started to say as he prepared to transfer his child into the arms of her sister. "Put that hand there…" he nodded at the closest. "Right around her head so it doesn't flop around…" he instructed patiently. Once that had been done, he worked the baby's torso into place; shifting so she was across Norah's lap. "Keep that other one along her back just like it is now…"

And with complete assurance, Marshall slipped his remaining fingers away so Norah could be in complete control. He was able to stoop all the way to get a better look now, and everything he was seeing was magical. Norah held herself a little stiffly to ensure the baby would not fall, but she continued kicking her feet with ease, like it was no big deal at all. She even smiled and flashed it toward Marshall.

"What's her name?"

It was Marshall's turn to smile, "Alice," he whispered. "Alice Mann."

"That's 'cause you and mom are getting married," Norah decided, focusing on the last name and not the fact that she had no middle name; she herself didn't have one either. "That's why she's Alice Mann and not Alice Shannon."

"And because Marshall's her daddy…" Brandi whispered from behind them, sounding as though she was about to cry.

"Both reasons," Marshall affirmed. "Your mother and I are indeed going to be official come February – give ourselves a few months to get used to this heartbreaker…" he tweaked Alice's cheek to reinforce the point.

Norah's tongue poked through her teeth at the thought of that, and Marshall was sure he'd never seen a more precious moment. Mary would be claiming the sappiness could choke her if she were awake, but he couldn't help feeling she'd want to be a part of it just the same. Norah was gazing back down at her sister, trying very hard not to move but titling her head this way and that, smiling peacefully as she contemplated the best angle.

"She's really little…" the elder finally commented quietly. "I thought she'd be bigger."

"She's just over seven pounds," Marshall told her, reaching out to smooth the nominal patches of dark hair sprouting on Alice's head; it grew in tufts in the oddest spots and he'd been told she was likely to rub it all off before they got to take her home. "How big did you think she'd be?"

"I don't know…" Norah tried to shrug, but it didn't go off very well, as she was so tight to keep Alice in her arms. "Just bigger 'cause mommy got so big."

Marshall couldn't help but laugh, "Sounds like a good diagnosis to me."

When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Brandi standing right where he'd left her with her hands pressed over her mouth to keep from bawling. She'd always been more emotional than Mary, and this experience was proving it in every way possible. The man could even see her eyes glistening with tears, and felt a chord strike in his heart at her being so affected by the entire ordeal.

"She looks like you Marshall…" was her statement when she removed her hands from her mouth, and it was quite a thick word at that. "In her eyes. I know they're not open yet, but I'm telling you; when they are…"

Marshall stole a glance from his crouched position, but he didn't see whatever Brandi did. Alice was just a baby – a beautiful baby, granted – but simply a baby. He saw nothing but hope, possibilities, promises, potential, dreams, goals; the whole shooting match. That was the only thing drawn in that intricate little face, even as she scrunched her nose and tried to get situated in the cradle formed by Norah's arms.

"Looks more like Mary to me," was all he had to say, however. "Guess we're gonna have to let Big N make the call," he joked as he referred to what would soon be his step-daughter. "What do you think, champ? She got the indisputable beauty of your mom or the unsung intellectualism of yours truly?" he put a hand to his heart for posterity.

Brandi began to laugh at such a question, and Marshall saw her turn away and begin rooting in the bags that were in the chair by the window. He didn't know what she was searching for, but he didn't care either; he was too busy trying to decide if Norah was going to answer his tie-breaker.

"Hmm…" her mouth worked side-to-side as she considered, narrowing her eyebrows, giving it some serious thought. Until finally, "You. I think she looks like you."

"Yeah?" Marshall felt strangely bolstered by this. "What makes you say that?"

Behind him, he heard the ominous clicks and beeps that meant Brandi had put the digital camera to work from the other side of the bed. He just stayed cool, talking to Norah, thinking that candid shots could sometimes be more breathtaking than those that were posed. And, in the here and now, pictures weren't as important as the attention he gave two of his favorite girls in the world. For as enraptured as he felt, he didn't think he'd need a camera to bring the memories to the forefront in the future.

Mary was awake for several seconds before she heard the clicking – before she realized it was the sound that had brought her back to life. Her eyelids felt heavy; she felt like they were pasted down with plaster, as though peeling them open was going to be difficult. She was sore in her stomach as well as her back, but it was slightly dulled like someone had pumped her full of medication. Mostly, she just felt tired. And yet, despite the fatigue she couldn't shake the feeling – even among that annoying ticking behind her – that someone or something like shelter was nearby. Safety persisted in her subconscious, but she was going to have to open her eyes to find out.

Slowly, as to not aggravate her discomfort, Mary blinked. Her vision was blurry and unfocused, but the most concise flash sparkled in an image before she had to shut her eyes again. And yet, that initial peek was just so tantalizing, she had to make sure she was really seeing it.

If she kept her eyes in slits, she could gaze at the dazzling picture some generous person had left for her to view while she floated in this strange piece of humanity. For, there was her daughter – her _daughters_. One was holding the other. The second was so tiny she looked like a loaf of bread in the older's arms, but the six-year-old was so relaxed in her movements to keep her sister out of harm's way. There, beside them, was the man Mary adored – prodding, adjusting, grinning. He was in heaven; he was. She wanted to join him. That was why she was going to marry him.

The clicking turned to odd white bursts and Mary realized, with a few more seconds, what it was.

"Mmm…" she finally groaned to announce her presence. "Whoever's taking my picture when I look like this is in for a real treat when I bust out of this joint…"

Marshall and Norah both looked up – Marshall looked pleased, but a little wary. He did not want her to be awake; he wanted her to take it easy. Norah, however, positively shone with delight; she smiled so widely you could see all her teeth – minus the one on the bottom she was missing.

"Hey…" Marshall said quietly, ignoring the slight about the photos while Brandi – Mary recognized her now – ceased with the snapping. "You're up…"

"Hi mommy," Norah greeted her sweetly. "Alice is cute. You did a good job."

Both Marshall and Brandi were unable to contain their laughter at such a remark, and Norah didn't quite understand why it was funny but she also didn't mind because Mary had offered her the smallest of smiles. Spent as she might be, Norah didn't need much other than that.

"It's good to see you…" Marshall stood up all the way and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Mary tingled, feeling her surroundings come to the hub a little more fully now, especially with Marshall pausing as he laid the peck to her skin. In an undertone, he whispered in her ear, "You having much pain or are you all right?"

He was a dear man. She'd been awake two minutes and he already wanted to take care of her.

That didn't mean she was going to let him, "I'm fine," she murmured sleepily, returning the favor with a kiss of her own before he stepped back once more.

If she shifted a little bit, she could get a better view of Norah and Alice; onto her side seemed a good option, and she was already reclined halfway. But, it was apparent now that Mary had rejoined civilization; Norah was much less interested in the baby. She wanted Mary – she always wanted Mary. And the mother did not even consider how tired she was; it made no difference. She wanted Norah too.

"Here, beautiful…" Marshall offered upon seeing the girls exchange looks. "Why don't you let me take Alice so you can say hi to mom? Be careful though, all right?" he didn't mention why she should behave as such, but Norah seemed to understand as he stooped once more to retrieve the baby from her grasp.

Once his daughter was back in his arms, he shuffled across the room to Brandi so she could have her second taste of aunt hood. It also gave Mary and Norah the opportunity to be alone, even partially. Marshall could only listen.

"How you doing, Bug?" the new mother asked in a low voice, swallowing so she sounded slightly more coherent.

"Good…" Norah replied easily. "I told Brandi Marshall couldn't make the turkey tomorrow. Jinx will have to."

"And here I thought being in the hospital was gonna be a drag," Mary quipped, still sounding raspy. "Turns out I'm the lucky one," she presented her daughter with yet another quiet smile.

Norah giggled and stood up, as to be even closer to the bed. Mary could see her much better now – her long and ever-tangled hair. The eyes that belonged to her father in their rich, deep brown. Right now, they held satisfaction and, above all, relief that the parent she needed so desperately was here to speak to. Norah might never say such a thing aloud, but Mary knew she craved it because she'd been craving it too.

"Come on love…" she invited with a wave of her head, signaling her chest. "I may be a little stretched out, but they didn't break me in two…"

A one-armed hug was a tad awkward at first, but Mary managed to guide Norah a decent direction so the child could embrace as well – one limb over Mary's back, tiny chin resting on her shoulder. Mary herself could only pat her daughter and drink in that it felt like it had been ages since she'd seen Norah. It was a ridiculous concept, of course; she'd seen her that very morning. But, it was like a lifetime had passed since then. That morning, she'd still been pregnant. And now, she was a mother of two. Amazing how much could happen in such a short day.

"I missed you…" Mary found herself admitting, running her hand down Norah's sandy blonde hair, feeling the silky strands pass through her fingers. "I'm glad Brandi brought you to see me," she was an intelligent woman, and knew the attraction was for her and not the newest member of the family; at least not right now.

"Me too," Norah managed in a small voice before they both let go and the little one stood back, allowing Mary to try and get comfortable in her pillows once again.

Unfortunately, since she'd pulled her arm out of the blankets she'd exposed the IV in her vein, which caught Norah's attention at once.

"What's that?" she pointed, looking slightly apprehensive already. "In your arm. Is it a needle?"

"A small one," Mary admitted, examining the spot herself, which was beginning to bruise. She could practically feel Marshall watching as she explained in further detail. "You know how I've been pretty sick the last few days…" such a term had been the best way for her and Marshall to describe it, but Norah nodded. "You know you never feel like eating when you're sick, but I can't just stop so that needle helps get me some food. No big deal."

"Oh…" tentatively, Norah extended three minute little fingers to the tape on Mary's wrist, as she'd held it out to demonstrate, but she didn't really want it fooled with and was forced to come clean.

"Best not to touch it though, Bug…" in what she hoped was a nonchalant way; she pulled her hand out of reach. "It's a little bit sore."

Mary's attempt at coolness didn't have the effect she'd hoped for, and Norah's huge dark eyes turned sad and lost-puppy-like.

"It hurts you?"

Although Mary had no intention of getting into this now, Marshall and Brandi were otherwise occupied with her new offspring and it was something the woman had-had on her mind for some time. Norah had presented her with the perfect opportunity, and she was going to run with it.

"Norah, why are you always so worried about me getting hurt?" she asked calmly, forcing some of her weight onto her side and leaning her cheek into her pillow. "I'm a tough gal; I can take whatever they throw at me."

She'd always found it odd, since she continually worked very hard to conceal her more heavy emotions from Norah. That, and she certainly wasn't in as much danger as she used to be, having given up field work rather spontaneously. Mary had no idea where she'd developed the fear, and yet she was about to find out.

"Well…" Norah scuffed her feet slightly, like she was embarrassed, but evidently she had no problem answering. "It's just…" a sweet sigh, before the verdict. "Marshall told me that when you were little, your daddy really hurt your feelings. He made you feel sad because he left and never came back to see you or anything…"

"Yeah, that's true…" Mary nudged her along.

"Marshall said it hurt your heart for a long-long time," Norah whispered theatrically. "And he said its way worse to get hurt in your heart, than in your arm or your leg or anywhere else…"

Mary could scarcely believe all the words coming out of her daughter's mouth, but she was shocked speechless. No phrase could refute the wholesome truth expelling from Norah right now.

"And, sometimes I just wonder if you get a bruise or you bleed or something somewhere _else_…" she emphasized, and Mary sensed her wrapping up. "That it might end up hurting your heart too. And, I don't want you to be sad and lonely like you were when your daddy ran away from you and Jinx and Brandi."

Mary still didn't know what to say. She'd never anticipated an answer such as this. She'd told Norah about her father long ago, but she had no idea Marshall had added such a broadly-worded editorial. It was startling to her that Norah equated physical pain in, as she'd said, an arm or a leg, and emotional pain as being one in the same. In many ways, Mary supposed they were. But, she also found it entirely essential to alleviate some of the concerns as best she could.

"Well Bug…" she reached for her hand and Norah took it at once. "I hurt just about _everywhere_ right now…" she hoped her little girl would understand this. "My belly hurts, and my arm hurts, and my back hurts…"

Mary was not all-that-surprised to discover Norah did not look fully troubled. She seemed to sense her mother would not bring this up if not to turn it around so neatly, and that was exactly what she was about to do.

"But, I can promise you this…" Mary squeezed the fingers, so much littler than her own. "If there's any part of me that _doesn't_ hurt right now…" she even clutched harder, just to show how serious she really was. "It's my heart. My heart feels better than it's felt in a long time."

She could just imagine the sort of schmaltz going on behind her back while Marshall and Brandi listened to all this, but she did her best to ignore them. Norah was who she cared about right now.

"For real?" the child asked. "It feels good?"

"Really good," Mary nodded. "Because I have you here, and I have Alice and Marshall and Brandi…" she jerked her head over her back to indicate them. "And come tomorrow, I bet you my stomach won't hurt anymore either. I'm gonna have to have my wits about me to whip your sister into shape," she teased with a wink.

"You're gonna miss Thanksgiving," Norah lamented with the mention of tomorrow.

"Yes, I will…" Mary conceded. "But, I'll probably be out of here by Friday and you'll have such a good time at Peter's with Robyn and Max, you won't even be thinking about me."

"Even if Jinx has to cook?" Norah wrinkled her nose at the thought.

"Even then," Mary laughed, loving the way her child latched onto her jokes about her mother; they were both lucky Jinx herself found them highly amusing these days. "And, I think Grandma might be bringing you guys mashed potatoes or something," she referenced Joanna. "So, you'll be set no matter what."

Marshall must've noticed the settled smile on Norah's face from his post on the other side, because he used the opportunity to bring the discussion to a close. He was definitely a fan of letting Norah see her mother after a harrowing day, but he also wanted Mary to be able to reenergize. She'd been through a lot, and she'd covered all the bases where Norah's comfort was concerned.

"Champ, I think it's about time you and Brandi got going…" he mused with a minimal pout to show he was sorry about it.

Norah turned back to Mary for the rest of the instructions, "Listen, Brandi's gonna take you back to her house and when dad gets done with his jobs for the day he'll be by to pick you up, okay?" it felt very strange to go through the rundown her and Marshall had been practicing in case of an event just like this; she wasn't ever certain they'd have to use it if the baby came so close to Thanksgiving. "And then he'll take you back over in the afternoon before dinner, all right?"

Marshall couldn't help admire how Mary could still fire off directions at warp speed, even given the day they'd had. She never stopped – she was on 'go' one hundred percent of the time.

"Will I see you at all tomorrow?" Norah wondered as Brandi made her way around the bed to prepare for the exit. "I know you can't come to dinner, but…"

Fortunately, it was her aunt to the rescue, "I'll bring you down to visit if you want," she offered kindly. "Before we eat; how's that sound?"

Mary was grateful for Brandi's consideration, because the buoyant nod that came from her daughter was definitely worth a meet-and-greet the next day just like this one. She felt Norah release her fingers and work them into Brandi's palm instead, satisfied with the chain of events and ready to pack it in. The most effortless gestures were so definitive for children sometimes.

"Hey Bug…" Mary smirked at Norah before she could get away completely. "Come here…" she beckoned with a single finger, not for a hug this time, but for a secret.

Norah leaned in; her hand still intertwined with Brandi's, "What?"

In a wily whisper, "Tell me the truth. What do you really think of Alice?"

Mary had never been one to believe in heightened jealousy and sibling rivalries – they existed; absolutely. Her and Brandi were living proof, but she'd always felt such battles worked themselves out eventually. They weren't worth near the headache some parents gave themselves; a little competition never hurt anybody. None of that was why Mary was asking. She wanted her oldest daughter to know she valued her opinion in this special hour in which they coincided.

"I don't know…" Norah shrugged and stepped back. "She's small. But, she's okay I guess."

Mary nodded, "That's my girl."

With that, she and Norah were exchanging a last kiss and Brandi was leaning in to place one on Mary's forehead as well. The elder was sleepy and drained enough she really didn't care how much of a weepy mess the younger was about babies and bassinets and God knew what else. She even managed a fairly genuine smile when Brandi's face floated innocently above her own.

"She's beautiful, Mare…" Brandi whispered, still craning her neck over her reclined form. "Congratulations."

"Thanks…" she murmured back with a yawn.

"I'll drop in with Norah tomorrow," she promised. "I'll bring you some food, all right?" she knew how Mary would hate not to be privy to the smorgasbord usually created by turkey day.

"Thanks Squish."

And then, in what felt like no time at all; her sister and her daughter had disappeared with waves and waggled fingers that went fuzzy in the corners of her mind – warm wishes and farewells that became mere white noise. Mary was tired, and she hadn't realized how much a simple conversation, even complete with reassurances, would take it out of her.

Bizarrely, it was like she blinked and all of a sudden Marshall was sitting right in front of her in the chair Norah had just left. How long had he been there? She could've sworn the others had only just gone, and yet had the distinct feeling she'd missed more than that. Marshall was holding Alice, rocking her evenly back and forth, eyes twinkling just at the sight of her. Mary really didn't know if she'd ever seen him more enchanted by a single human being.

"You always did look good with a baby," she found herself musing quietly. "Really ups your image, doofus."

Marshall glanced up, "Take a little power nap, did we?"

"Was I asleep?" Mary tried to stretch, but it made her muscles tender and quivery, and so she stopped, attempting sitting up a little more fully instead.

"You went down for the count for about ten minutes after Brandi and Norah left," Marshall reported, jostling his daughter now as sweet, quiet coos echoed out of her rounded lips. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"Something tells me I need to get used to being disturbed," she remarked, somehow managing to get herself arranged so she actually was half-upright against the bed and sitting like a normal person. "With a six-year-old and a newborn in the house."

"Ah, it'll be a two-on-two situation…" Marshall waved an unconcerned hand. "We can tag-team the girls."

"Remember how good we used to be at the tag team?" Mary whispered, allowing her head to roll lightly to one side so she could still face him, but didn't have to hold it up. "Blasting the crazies off their asses and all."

"Well, we are going to have to alter our partnership status with Norah and Alice," Marshall declared, pretending to be resigned but the way his eyes strayed back to the younger again didn't fool Mary. "But it is no less complex – no less of a rush."

"Suppose that's true," she agreed with a sigh, extending an arm to get her own touch of that soft and unspoiled skin Marshall was hoarding.

And yet, her husband-to-be always knew what was on her mind. He recognized the longing in her shadowed green eyes that said he had been nestling their daughter all day, and it was time for another to have a turn. He'd always understood that about her – even as far back as the days of adoption, he'd known her heart beat as a mother's. Her children pulled her in, wrapped her up, and filled every void her father had left when he'd abandoned her at seven years old. They were her soul; the core of an existence she forever claimed was fraught with darkness and disappointment.

"I think it's about time you got some one-on-one with mommy…" Marshall dictated, still flashing that brilliant smile of his at the baby. "She worked awful hard to get you here; can't expect her to just watch after all that."

And, before Mary knew what was happening, he had stood up and was gently working Alice into her arms. She surprised herself at how natural it all felt. Her spontaneous decision to raise Norah years before had meant she was running in blind; going green and hoping they both returned unscathed on the other side. This time, she felt far more confident as her arms slid into all the right places, as her youngest daughter's head rested so perfectly against the bend in her arm. She knew it was where she was supposed to be.

Marshall returned to his seat with an even larger smile, "Any minute now I'm gonna wake up."

Mary flashed him her best disdainful look, basking in the warmth and lightness Alice seeped into her flesh, "Save the Disney quotes for Robyn would you?"

"Strictly speaking, I can really say whatever I please," he decided with a raised finger. "You, much to your chagrin I am sure, are in no position to clobber me. I should take advantage while I have it."

"Just wait," Mary groused, but she wasn't paying much attention anymore.

She couldn't help getting entirely consumed in the company of this petite little being, who only three hours before had still been the bulge in her belly. She was merely the reason for her fat feet, her sore back, her off-the-chart emotions, and anything else that came with housing another person within. And yet, now that Alice was here she instantly became so much more than that. She was rosy red cheeks, oval-almond shaped eyes, and flexing fingers inside her blankets.

"Did I happen to mention just how utterly amazing you were today?" Marshall's voice intruded her sanctuary, but Mary also knew he belonged inside it with her.

"An even dozen times; I'm pretty sure," his woman teased with a nod. "Amazing, incredible; all that jazz. The treatment you get after you pop a kid is unparalleled," she laughed.

"Well, you were," Marshall ignored the slight; pure respect and high-regard etched in every line on his face. "Start to finish – a victor."

"Come on…" Mary shrugged, never having done well at taking compliments. "I did what zillions of other broads have done in the course of history. I breathed, I pushed, I cried; case closed."

Marshall just laughed and shook his head, never understanding her inability to give herself credit in the most select situations. Regardless, it didn't bother him right now. All that mattered in this universe into which they'd fallen was that today was the day – more than any other – that marked he and Mary as one. They were a single unit; their hands were tied, their bonds had been clenched. Now and always, wedding or no wedding, they were united, combined, and joined by something as small as the squirmy little girl in Mary's arms.

"Still blows my mind…" she was saying while all of this ran through Marshall's head. "How big she is. I guess that picture of Norah at four-and-a-half pounds is never gonna completely leave or something, but she seems gargantuan," a laugh. "Which is stupid, since Robyn was like a whole pound bigger."

The mention of Robyn made Marshall think of Brandi, "Your sister seems to think she resembles me."

"She does," Mary furrowed her brow as though she expected him to know as much already, no hesitation evident in her tone whatsoever. "You don't see it?"

Marshall shook his head, "Guess not. What makes her look _anything_ like me?"

Mary considered carefully, studying the face of her daughter in her grasp, but the look wasn't one she could describe. It wasn't in her eyes or the shape of her mouth, or even the dark tufts of hair on her head. It was something that came from within; it was encased in her miniature form of wishes and completely well-preserved prospects. She had the whole world in front of her; nothing to lose and everything to gain. Somewhere deep inside, it was the optimism; the blinding lights of her future that shined and wouldn't cease for so many years down the road.

"Marshall…"

Looking up at him, Mary was struck so forcefully by just how much she owed him; how much she adored him. He was everything to her, as punctuated by the kiss she leaned over and lay lightly on his lips. When she slipped slowly away, the blue of his eyes mirrored the clear blue sky of opportunities out there for Alice.

"It's because she's pure."

XXX

**A/N: And that's it! Thank-you so much for reading, reviewing, alerting, and anything else that has gone on. I really appreciate it. I hope you approve of the way the story ended. The date is in February and it is set, even if they're not married just yet (and really, how could you get married at the same time you were having a baby?) I hope you all like the name too – Alice. Nice and traditional.**

**I honestly don't know what is next for me. Early-to-mid-August, I am going to get really busy, and so my leisure time for writing will be a lot more limited. I can't anticipate what might be out there, but I sincerely hope this isn't goodbye; I wish to be back someday with either a continuation or a whole new tale.**

**Thanks to my individual reviewers – Jayne_Leigh, jekkah, henrylover94, blueberry55, carajiggirl, JJ2008, usafcmycloud, Sparky She-Demon, Hannanball13, JMS529, BrittanyLS, thena-ditey, seacat03, tilleygirl, paperback-romance, and many more guests than I usually get (most of which I think are regular reviewers who forgot to sign in LOL!) I am grateful to you all; you've been with me since 'before Sam' and I love you for it! XOXO**


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